Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THIERRY AND THEODORET, by FRANCIS BEAUMONT

Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THIERRY AND THEODORET, by                 Poet's Biography
First Line: Tax me with these hot taintures
Last Line: Encourage us, and give our poet bays.
Subject(s): Theuderic Ii, King Of France (d. 613); Thierry Ii


THIERRY, King of France.
THEODORET, his Brother, Prince of Austracia.
MARTELL, Follower and Friend to THEODORET.
DE VITRY, a disbanded Officer.
LECURE, her Physician.
BAWDBER, a Pandar.
Gentlemen, Attendants.




SCENE 1.—An Apartment in the Palace of THEODORET.


RUN. Tax me with these hot taintures!
Theod. You're too sudden;
I do but gently tell you what becomes you,
And what may bend your honour; how these courses,
Of loose and lazy pleasures, not suspected,
But done and known; your mind that grants no limit,
(And all your actions follow,) which loose people,
That see but through a mist of circumstance,
Dare term ambitious; all your ways hide sores
Opening in the end to nothing but ulcers.
Your instruments like these may call the world,
And with a fearful clamour, to examine
Why, and to what we govern. From example,
If not for virtue's sake, you may be honest:
There have been great ones, good ones; and 'tis necessary,
Because you are yourself, and by yourself
A self-piece from the touch of power and justice,
You should command yourself. You may imagine
(Which cozens all the world, but chiefly women)
The name of greatness glorifies your actions,
And strong power, like a pent-house, promises
To shade you from opinion. Take heed, mother;
And let us all take heed: these most abuse us.
The sins we do, people behold through optics
Which show them ten times more than common vices,
And often multiply them: then what justice
Dare we inflict upon the weak offenders,
When we are thieves ourselves?
Brun. This is Martell,
Studied and penned unto you; whose base person,
I charge you by the love you owe a mother,
And as you hope for blessings from her prayers,
Neither to give belief to nor allowance.
Next, I tell you, sir, you, from whom obedience
Is so far fled that you dare tax a mother,
Nay, further, brand her honour with your slanders,
And break into the treasures of her credit,
Your easiness is abu ed, your faith freighted
With lies, malicious lies; your merchant Mischief;
He that ne'er knew more trade than tales, and tumbling
Suspicions into honest hearts. What you, or he,
Or all the world, dare lay upon my worth,
This for your poor opinions! I am she,
And so will bear myself, whose truth and whiteness
Shall ever stand as far from these detections
As you from duty. Get you better servants,
People of honest actions, without ends,
And whip these knaves away; they eat your favours,
And turn 'em unto poisons. My known credit,
Whom all the courts o' this side Nile have envied,
And happy she could cite me, brought in question,
Now in my hours of age and reverence,
When rather superstition should be rendered!
And by a rush that one day's warmth
Hath shot up to this swelling! Give me justice,
Which is his life.
Theod. This is an impudence,
(And he must tell you, that till now, mother,
Brought you a son's obedience, and now breaks it)
Above the sufferance of a son.
Baw. Bless us!
For I do now begin to feel myself
Turning into a halter, and the ladder
Turning from me, one pulling at my legs too. [Aside.
Theod. These truths are no man's tales, but all men's troubles:
They are, though your strange greatness would out-stare 'em:
Witness the daily libels, almost ballads,
In every place, almost in every province,
Are made upon your lust; tavern-discourses;
Crowds crammed with whispers; nay, the holy temples
Are not without your curses. Now you would blush;
But your black tainted blood dare not appear,
For fear I should fright that too.
Brun. Oh, ye gods!
Theod. Do not abuse their names: they see your actions;
And your concealed sins, though you work like moles,
Lie level to their justice.
Brun. Art thou a son?
Theod. The more my shame is of so bad a mother,
And more your wretchedness you let me be so.
But, woman, (for a mother's name hath left me,
Since you have left your honour,) mend these ruins,
And build again that broken fame, and fairly,
Your most intemperate fires have burnt; and quickly,
Within these ten days, take a monastery,
A most strict house; a house where none may whisper,
Where no more light is known but what may make you
Believe there is a day; where no hope dwells,
Nor comfort but in tears_____
Brun. Oh, misery!
Theod. And there to cold repentance and starved penance
Tie your succeeding days: or, curse me Heaven,
If all your gilded knaves, brokers, and bedders,
Even he you built from nothing, strong Protaldy,
Be not made ambling geldings! all your maids,
If that name do not shame 'em, fed with sponges
To suck away their rankness! and yourself
Only to empty pictures and dead arras
Offer your old desires!
Brun. I will not curse you,
Nor lay a prophecy upon your pride,
Though Heaven might grant me both; unthankful, no!
I nourished you; 'twas I, poor I, groaned for you;
'Twas I felt what you suffered; I lamented
When sickness or sad hours held back your sweetness;
'Twas I payed for your sleeps, I watched your wakings;
My daily cares and fears that rid, played, walked,
Discoursed, discovered, fed and fashioned you
To what you are; and am I thus rewarded?
Theod. But that I know these tears, I could dote on 'em,
And kneel to catch 'em as they fall, then knit 'em
Into an armlet, ever to be honoured:
But, woman, they are dangerous drops, deceitful,
Full of the weeper, anger and ill nature.
Brun. In my last hours despised!
Theod. That text should tell
How ugly it becomes you to err thus:
Your flames are spent, nothing but smoke maintains you;
And those your favour and your bounty suffers,
Lie not with you, they do but lay lust on you,
And then embrace you as they caught a palsy;
Your power they may love, and, like Spanish jennets,
Commit with such a gust_____
Baw. I would take whipping,
And pay a fine now! [Aside and exit.
Theod. But were you once disgraced,
Or fallen in wealth, like leaves they would fly from you,
And become browse for every beast. You willed me
To stock myself with better friends and servants:
With what face dare you see me, or any mankind,
That keep a race of such unheard-of relics,
Bawds, leechers, leeches, female fornications,
And children in their rudiments to vices,
Old men to show examples, and (lest art
Should lose herself in act) to call back custom?
Leave these, and live like Niobe; I told you how;
And when your eyes have dropt away remembrance
Of what you were, I am your son: perform it. [Exit.
Brun. Am I a woman, and no more power in me
To tie this tiger up? a soul to no end?
Have I got shame, and lost my will? Brunhalt,
From this accursèd hour forget thou bor'st him,
Or any part of thy blood gave him living!
Let him be to thee an antipathy,
A thing thy nature sweats at and turns backward;
Throw all the mischiefs on him that thyself,
Or women worse than thou art, have invented,
And kill him drunk or doubtful!

Re-enter BAWDBER, with PROTALDY, and LECURE.

Baw. Such a sweat
I never was in yet: clipt of my minstrels,
My toys to prick up wenches withal! Uphold me;
It runs like snow-balls through me.
Brun. Now, my varlets,
My slaves, my running thoughts, my executions!
Baw. Lord, how she looks!
Brun. Hell take ye all!
Baw. We shall be gelt.
Brun. Your mistress,
Your old and honoured mistress, you tired curtals,
Suffers for your base sins. I must be cloistered,
Mewed up to make me virtuous: who can help this?
Now you stand still, like statues! Come, Protaldy,
One kiss before I perish; kiss me strongly;
[PROTALDY kisses her.
Another, and a third!
Lec. I fear not gelding,
As long as she holds this way.
Brun. The young courser,
That unlicked lump of mine, will win thy mistress:
Must I be chaste, Protaldy?
Prot. Thus, and thus, lady. [Kisses her.
Brun. It shall be so: let him seek fools for vestals;
Here is my cloister.
Lec. But what safety, madam,
Find you in staying here?
Brun. Thou hast hit my meaning:
I will to Thierry, son of my blessings,
And there complain me, tell my tale so subtilely,
That the cold stones shall sweat, and statues mourn;
And thou shalt weep, Protaldy, in my witness,
And there forswear_____
Baw. Yes; any thing but gelding.
I am not yet in quiet, noble lady:
Let it be done to night, for without doubt
To-morrow we are capons.
Brun. Sleep shall not seize me,
Nor any food befriend me but thy kisses,
Ere I forsake this desert I live honest!
He may as well bid dead men walk. I humbled!
Or bent below my power, let night-dogs tear me,
And goblins ride me in my sleep to jelly,
Ere I forsake my sphere!
Lec. This place you will.
Brun. What's that to you or any?
You dose, ye powdered pigsbones, rhubarb-glister,
Must you know my designs? a college on you
The proverb makes but fools.
Prot. But, noble lady_____
Brun. You are a saucy ass too! Off I will not,
If you but anger me, till a sow-gelder
Have cut you all like colts. Hold me, and kiss me,
For I am too much troubled. Make up my treasure,
And get me horses private; come, about it! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—Another Apartment in the same.

Enter THEODORET, MARTELL, and Attendants.

Theod. Though I assure myself, Martell, your counsel
Had no end but allegiance and my honour,
Yet I am jealous I have passed the bounds
Of a son's duty: for, suppose her worse
Than your report, not by bare circumstance
But evident proof confirmed, has given her out;
Yet since all weaknesses in a kingdom are
No more to be severely punished than
The faults of kings are by the Thunderer,
As oft as they offend, to be revenged;
If not for piety, yet for policy,
Since some are of necessity to be spared,
I might, and now I wish I had not looke
With such strict eyes into her follies.
Mar. Sir,
A duty well discharged is never followed
By sad repentance; nor did your highness ever
Make payment of the debt you owed her, better
Than in your late reproofs, not of her, but
Those crimes that made her worthy of reproof.
The most remarkable point in which kings differ
From private men, is that they not alone
Stand bound to be in themselves innocent,
But that all such as are allied to them
In nearness or dependence, by their care
Should be free from suspicion of all crime:
And you have reaped a double benefit
From this last great act: first, in the restraint
Of her lost pleasures, you remove the example
From others of the like licentiousness;
Then, when 'tis known that your severity
Extended to your mother, who dares hope for
The least indulgence or connivance in
The easiet slips that may prove dangerous
To you or to the kingdom?
Theod. I must grant
Your reasons good, Martell, if, as she is
My mother, she had been my subject, or
That only here she could make challenge to
A place of being: but I know her temper,
And fear (if such a word become a king)
That, in discovering her, I have let loose
A tigress, whose rage, being shut up in darkness,
Was grievous only to herself; which, brought
Into the view of light, her cruelty,
Provoked by her own shame, will turn on him
That foolishly presumed to let her see
The loathed shape of her own deformity.
Mar. Beasts of that nature, when rebellious threats
Begin to appear only in their eyes,
Or any motion that may give suspicion
Of the least violence, should be chained up;
Their fangs and teeth, and all their means of hurt,
Pared off and knocked out; and, so made unable
To do ill, they would soon begin to loathe it.
I'll apply nothing; but had your grace done,
Or would do yet, what your less-forward zeal
In words did only threaten, far less danger
Would grow from acting it on her than may
Perhaps have being from her apprehension
Of what may once be practised: for, believe it,
Who, confident of his own power, presumes
To spends threats on an enemy that hath means
To shun the worst they can effect, gives armour
To keep off his own strength; nay, more, disarms
Himself, and lies unguarded against all harms
Or doubt or malice may produce.
Theod. 'Tis true:
And such a desperate cure I would have used,
If the intemperate patient had not been
So near me as a mother; but to her,
And from me, gentle unguents only were
To be applied; and as physicians,
When they are sick of fevers, eat themselves
Such viands as by their directions are
Forbid to others, though alike diseased;
So she, considering what she is, may challenge
Those cordials to restore her, by her birth
And privilege, which at no suit must be
Granted to others.
Mar. May your pious care
Effect but what it aimed at! I am silent.


Theod. What laughed you at, sir?
De Vit. I have some occasion,
I should not else; and the same cause perhaps
That makes me do so, may beget in you
A contrary effect.
Theod. Why, what's the matter?
De Vit. I see, and joy to see, that sometimes poor men
(And most of such are good) stand more indebted
For means to breathe to such as are held vicious,
Than those that wear, like hypocrites, on their high foreheads
The ambitious titles of just men and virtuous.
Mar. Speak to the purpose.
De Vit. Who would e'er have thought
The good old queen, your highness' reverend mother,
Into whose house (which was an academe,
In which all principles of lust were practised)
No soldier might presume to set his foot;
At whose most blessèd intercession
All offices in the state were charitably
Conferred on pandars, o'er-worn chamber-wrestlers,
And such physicians as knew how to kill
With safety, under the pretence of saving,
And such-like children of a monstrous peace;
That she, I say, should at the length provide
That men of war and honest younger brothers,
That would not owe their feeding to their codpiece,
Should be esteemed of more than moths, or drones,
Or idle vagabonds!
Theod. I am glad to hear it;
Prithee, what course takes she to do this?
De Vit. One
That cannot fail: she and her virtuous train,
With her jewels and all that was worthy the carrying,
The last night left the court; and, as 'tis more
Than said, for 'tis confirmed by such as met her,
She's fled unto your brother.
Theod. How!
De Vit. Nay, storm not;
For if that wicked tongue of hers hath not
Forgot its pace, and Thierry be a prince
Of such a fiery temper as report
Has given him out for, you shall have cause to use
Such poor men as myself, and thank us too
For coming to you and without petitions:
Pray Heaven reward the good old woman for't!
Mar. I foresaw this.
Theod. I hear a tempest coming,
That sings mine and my kingdom's ruin. Haste,
And cause a troop of horse to fetch her back—
Yet stay: why should I use means to bring in
A plague that of herself hath left me? Muster
Our soldiers up; we'll stand upon our guard;
For we shall be attempted.—Yet forbear:
The inequality of our powers will yield me
Nothing but loss in their defeature. Something
Must be done, and done suddenly. Save your labour:
In this I'll use no counsel but mine own;
That course, though dangerous, is best. Command
Our daughter be in readiness to attend us.
Martell, your company,—and, honest Vitry,
Thou wilt along with me?
De Vit. Yes, any where;
To be worse than I am here, is past my fear. [Exeunt.


SCENE I.—Before the Palace of THIERRY.


THI. You are here in a sanctuary; and that viper
(Who since he hath forgot to be a son,
I much disdain to think of as a brother)
Had better, in despite of all the gods,
To have razed their temples and
spurned down their altars,
Than, in his impious abuse of you,
To have called on my just anger.
Brun. Princely son,
And in this worthy of a nearer name,
I have in the relation of my wrongs
Been modest, and no word my tongue delivered
To express my insupportable injuries
But gave my heart a wound: nor has my grief
Being from what I suffer; but that he,
Degenerate as he is, should be the actor
Of my extremes, and force me to divide
The fires of brotherly affection,
Which should make but one flame.
Thi. That part of his,
As it deserves, shall burn no more, if or
The tears of orphans, widows, or all such
As dare acknowledge him to be their lord,
Joined to your wrongs, with his heart-blood have power
To put it out: and you, in these your servants,
Who in our favours shall find cause to know,
In that they left not you, how dear we hold them,
Shall give Theodoret to understand
His ignorance of the priceless jewel which
He did possess in you, mother, in you;
Of which I am more proud to be the owner,
Than if the absolute rule of all the world
Were offered to this hand. Once more, you are welcome
Which with all ceremony due to greatness
I would make known, but that our just revenge

Enter PROTALDY with Soldiers.

Admits not of delay.—Your hand, lord-general!
Brun. Your favour and his merit, I may say,
Have made him such: but I am jealous how
Your subjects will receive it.
Thi. How! my subjects?
What do you make of me? Oh Heaven! my subjects?
How base should I esteem the name of prince
If that poor dust were anything before
The whirlwind of my absolute command!
Let 'em be happy, and rest so contented,
They pay the tribute of their hearts and knees
To such a prince, that not alone has power
To keep his own, but to increase it; that,
Although he hath a body may add to
The famed night-labour of strong Hercules,
Yet is the master of a continence
That so can temper it, that I forbear
Their daughters and their wives; whose hands, though strong,
As yet have never drawn by unjust mean
Their proper wealth into my treasury—
But I grow glorious—and let them beware
That, in their least repining at my pleasures,
They change not a mild prince (for, if provoked,
I dare and will be so) into a tyrant.
Brun. You see there's hope that we shall rule again,
[Apart to LECURE and BAWDBER.
And your fallen fortunes rise.
Baw. I hope your highness
Is pleased that I should still hold my place with you;
For I have been so long used to provide you
Fresh bits of flesh since mine grew stale, that surely,
If cashiered now, I shall prove a bad cater
In the fish-market of cold Chastity.
Lec. For me, I am your own; nor, since I first
Knew what it was to serve you, have remembered
I had a soul, but such a one whose essence
Depended wholly on your highness' pleasure;
And therefore, madam—
Brun. Rest assured you are
Such instruments we must not lose.
Lec. Baw. Our service.
Thi. You have viewed them then? what's your opinion of them?
In this dull time of peace we have prepared 'em
Apt for the war; ha?
Prot. Sir, they have limbs
That promise strength sufficient, and rich armours,
The soldier's best-loved wealth: more, it appears
They have been drilled, nay, very prettily drilled;
For many of them can discharge their musquets
Without the danger of throwing off their heads,
Or being offensive to the standers-by
By sweating too much backwards; nay, I find
They know the right and left-hand file, and may
With some impulsion no doubt be brought
To pass the A, B, C, of war, and come
Unto the horn-book.
Thi. Well, that care is yours;
And see that you affect it.
Prot. I am slow
To promise much; but if within ten days,
By precepts and examples, not drawn from
Worm-eaten precedents of the Roman wars,
But from mine own, I make them not transcend
All that e'er yet bore arms, let it be said,
Protaldy brags, which would be unto me
As hateful as to be esteemed a coward:
For, sir, few captains know the way to win 'em,
And make the soldiers valiant. You shall see me
Lie with them in their trenches, talk, and drink,
And be together drunk; and, what seems stranger,
We'll sometimes wench together, which, once practised,
And with some other rare and hidden arts,
They being all made mine, I'll breathe into them
Such fearless resolution and such fervour,
That though I brought them to besiege a fort
Whose walls were steeple-high and cannon-proof,
Not to be undermined, they should fly up
Like swallows; and, the parapet once won,
For proof of their obedience, if I willed them,
They should leap down again; and, what is more,
By some directions they should have from me,
Not break their necks.
Thi. This is above belief.
Brun. Sir, on my knowledge, though he hath spoke much,
He's able to do more.
Lec. She means on her. [Aside.
Brun. And howsoever, in his thankfulness
For some few favours done him by myself,
He left Austracia; not Theodoret,
Though he was chiefly aimed at, could have laid,
With all his dukedom's power, that shame upon him,
Which, in his barbarous malice to my honour,
He swore with threats to effect.
Thi. I cannot but
Believe you, madam.—Thou art one degree
Grown nearer to my heart, and I am proud
To have in thee so glorious a plant
Transported hither: in thy conduct we
Go on assured of conquest; our remove
Shall be with the next sun.


Lec. Amazement leave me!
'Tis he.
Baw. We are again undone!
Prot. Our guilt
Hath no assurance nor defence.
Baw. If now
Your ever-ready wit fail to protect us,
We shall be all discovered.
Brun. Be not so
In your amazement and your foolish fears:
I am prepared for't.
Theod. How! not one poor welcome,
In answer of so long a journey made
Only to see you, brother?
Thi. I have stood
Silent thus long, and am yet unresolved
Whether to entertain thee on my sword,
As fits a parricide of a mother's honour;
Or whether, being a prince, I yet stand bound
(Though thou art here condemned) to give thee hearing
Before I execute. What foolish hope,—
Nay, pray you, forbear,—or desperate madness rather,
(Unless thou com'st assured I stand in debt
As far to all impiety as thyself,)
Has made thee bring thy neck unto the axe?
Since looking only here, it cannot but
Draw fresh blood from thy seared-up conscience.
To make thee sensible of that horror which
They ever bear about them, that, like Nero—
Like, said I? thou art worse, since thou dar'st strive
In her defame to murder thine alive.
Theod. That she that long since had the boldness to
Be a bad woman, (though I wish some other
Should so report her,) could not want the cunning,
Since they go hand in hand, to lay fair colours
On her black crimes, I was resolved before;
Nor make I doubt but that she hath impoisoned
Your good opinion of me, and so far
Incensed your rage against me, that too late
I come to plead my innocence.
Brun. To excuse
Thy impious scandals rather.
Prot. Rather forced
With fear to be compelled to come.
Thi. Forbear!
Theod. This moves not me; and yet, had I not been
Transported on my own integrity,
I neither am so odious to my subjects,
Nor yet so barren of defence, but that
By force I could have justified my guilt,
Had I been faulty. But since innocence
Is to itself an hundred thousand guards,
And that there is no son but though he owe
That name to an ill mother, but stands bound
Rather to take away, with his own danger,
From the number of her faults, than, for his own
Security, to add unto them; this,
This hath made me, to prevent the expense
Of blood on both sides, the injuries, the rapes,
(Pages that ever wait upon the war,)
The account of all which, since you are the cause,
Believe it, would have been required from you;
Rather, I say, to offer up my daughter,
Who living only could revenge my death,
With my heart-blood, a sacrifice to your anger,
Than that you should draw on your head more curses
Than yet you have deserved.
Thi. I do begin
To feel an alteration in my nature,
And, in his full-sailed confidence, a shower
Of gentle rain, that, falling on the fire
Of my hot rage, hath quenched it. Ha! I would
Once more speak roughly to him, and I will;
Yet there is something whispers to me, that
I have said too much. [Aside.]—How is my heart divided
Between the duty of a son and love
Due to a brother! Yet I am swayed here,
And must ask of you, how 'tis possible
You can affect me, that have learned to hate
Where you should pay all love?
Theod. Which, joined with duty,
Upon my knees I should be proud to tender,
Had she not used herself so many swords
To cut those bonds that tied me to it.
Thi. Fie,
No more of that
Theod. Alas, it is a theme
I take no pleasure to discourse of! would
It could as soon be buried to the world,
As it should die to me! nay, more, I wish
(Next to my part of Heaven) that she would spend
The last part of her life so here, that all
Indifferent judges might condemn me for
A most malicious slanderer, nay, text it
Upon my forehead.—If you hate me, mother,
Put me to such a shame; pray you, do! Believe it,
There is no glory that may fall upon me,
Can equal the delight I should receive
In that disgrace; provided the repeal
Of your long-banished virtues and good name
Ushered me to it.
Thi. See, she shows herself
An easy mother, which her tears confirm.
Theod. 'Tis a good sign; the comfortablest rain
I ever saw.
Thi. Embrace—Why, this is well:
May never more but love in you, and duty
On your part, rise between you!
Baw. Do you hear, lord-general?
Does not your new-stamped honour on the sudden
Begin to grow sick?
Prot. Yes; I find it fit,
That, putting off my armour, I should think of
Some honest hospital to retire to.
Baw. Sure,
Although I am a bawd, yet being a lord,
They cannot whip me for't: what's your opinion?
Lec. The beadle will resolve you, for I cannot:
There's something that more near concerns myself,
That calls upon me.
Mart. Note but yonder scarabs,
That lived upon the dung of her base pleasures;
How from the fear that she may yet prove honest
Hang down their wicked heads!
De Vit. What's that to me?
Though they and all the polecats of the court
Were trussed together, I perceive not how
It can advantage me a cardecu,
To help to keep me honest. [A horn sounded within.

Enter a Post.

Thi. How! from whence?
Post. [Giving letters to THI.] These letters will resolve your
Thi. What speak they?— [Reads.
How all things meet to make me this day happy!
See, mother, brother, to your reconcilement
Another blessing, almost equal to it,
Is coming towards me! my contracted wife
Ordella, daughter of wise Datarick,
The King of Arragon, is on our confines:
Then to arrive at such a time, when you
Are happily here to honour with your presence
Our long-deferred but much-wished nuptial,
Falls out above expression! Heaven be pleased
That I may use these blessings poured on me
With moderation!
Brun. Hell and Furies aid me,
That I may have power to avert the plagues,
That press upon me! [Aside.
Thi. Two day's journey, say'st thou?
We will set forth to meet her. In the meantime,
See all things be prepared to entertain her.
Nay, let me have your companies; there's a forest
In the midway shall yield us hunting sport,
To ease our travel. I'll not have a brow
But shall wear mirth upon it; therefore clear them:
We'll wash away all sorrow in glad feasts;
And the war we meant to men, we'll make on beasts.
Brun. Oh, that I had the magic to transform you
Into the shape of such, that your own hounds
Might tear you piece-meal!—Are you so stupid?
No word of comfort? Have I fed you, moths,
From my excess of moisture with such cost,
And can you yield no other retribution,
But to devour your maker? pandar, sponge,
Impoisoner, all grown barren?
Prot. You yourself,
That are our mover, and for whom alone
We live, have failed yourself in giving way
To the reconcilement of your sons.
Lec. Which if
You had prevented, or would teach us how
They might again be severed, we could easily
Remove all other hindrances that stop
The passage of your pleasures.
Baw. And for me,
If I fail in my office to provide you
Fresh delicates, hang me!
Brun. Oh, you are dull, and find not
The cause of my vexation! their reconcilement
Is a mock castle built upon the sand
By children, which, when I am pleased to o'erthrow,
I can with ease spurn down.
Lec. If so, from whence
Grows your affliction?
Brun. My grief comes along
With the new queen, in whose grace all my power
Must suffer shipwreck. For me now,
That hitherto have kept the first, to know
A second place, or yield the least precedence
To any other, 's death; to have my sleeps
Less enquired after, or my rising up
Saluted with less reverence, or my gates
Empty of suitors, or the King's great favours
To pass through any hand but mine, or he
Himself to be directed by another,
Would be to me—do you understand me yet?
No means to prevent this?
Prot. Fame gives her out
To be a woman of a chastity
Not to be wrought upon; and therefore, madam,
For me, though I have pleased you, to attempt her,
Were to no purpose.
Brun. Tush, some other way!
Baw. Faith, I know none else; all my bringing up
Aimed at no other learning.
Lec. Give me leave;
If my heart fail me not, I have thought on
A speeding project.
Brun. What is't? but effect it,
And thou shalt be my Æsculapius;
Thy image shall be set up in pure gold,
To which I will fall down, and worship it.
Lec. The lady is fair?
Brun. Exceeding fair.
Lec. And young?
Brun. Some fifteen at the most.
Lec. And loves the King
With equal ardour?
Brun. More; she dotes on him.
Lec. Well, then; what think you if I make a drink,
Which, given unto him on the bridal-night,
Shall for five days so rob his faculties
Of all ability to pay that duty
Which new-made wives expect, that she shall swear
She is not matched to a man?
Prot. 'Twere rare.
Lec. And then,
If she have any part of woman in her,
She'll of fly out, or at least give occasion
Of such a breach which ne'er can be made up;
Since he that to all else did never fail
Of as much as could be performed by man,
Proves only ice to her.
Brun. 'Tis excellent.
Baw. The physician
Helps ever at dead lift: a fine calling,
That can both raise and take down: out upon thee!
Brun. For this one service, I am ever thine:
Prepare it; I will give it him myself.
For you, Protaldy,
By this kiss and our promised sport at night,
I do conjure you to bear up, not minding
The opposition of Theodoret,
Or any of his followers: whatsoe'er
You are, yet appear valiant, and make good
The opinion that is had of you. For myself
In the new queen's remove being made secure,
Fear not, I'll make the future building sure. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—A Forest, winding of horns within.


Theod. This stag stood well and cunningly.
Thi. My horse,
I am sure, has found it, for her sides are blooded
From flank to shoulder. Where's the troop?
Theod. Passed homeward,


Weary and tired as we are.—Now, Martell;
Have you remembered what we thought of?
Mart. Yes, sir; I have snigled him; and if there be
Any desert in his blood beside the itch,
Or manly heat but what decoctions,
Leeches, and cullises have crammed into him,
Your lordship shall know perfect.
Thi. What is that?
May not I know too?
Theod. Yes, sir; to that end
We cast the project.
Thi. What is't?
Mart. A desire, sir,
Upon the gilded flag your grace's favour
Has stuck up for a general; and to inform you
(For this hour he shall pass the test) what valour,
Staid judgment, soul, or safe discretion,
Your mother's wandering eyes and your obedience
Have flung upon us; to assure your knowledge,
He can be, dare be, shall be, must be nothing
(Load him with piles of honours, set him off
With all the cunning foils that may deceive us)
But a poor, cold, unspirited, unmannered,
Unhonest, unaffected, undone fool,
And most unheard-of coward; a mere lump
Made to load beds withal, and, like a nightmare
Ride ladies that forget to say their prayers;
One that dares only be diseased and in debt;
Whose body mews more plasters every month,
Than women do old faces.
Thi. No more; I know him:
I now repent my error. Take your time,
And try him home, ever thus far reserved,
You tie your anger up.
Mart. I lose it else, sir.
Thi. Bring me his sword fair-taken without violence,
(For that will best declare him)_____
Theod. That's the thing.
Thi. And my best horse is thine.
Mart. Your grace's servant.[Exit.
Theod. You'll hunt no more, sir?
Thi. Not to-day; the weather
Is grown too warm; besides, the dogs are spent:
We'll take a cooler morning. Let's to horse,
And halloo in the troop. [Exeunt. Horns winded within.

SCENE III.—Another part of the Forest.

Enter two Huntsmen.

1st Hunt. Ay, marry, Twainer,
This woman gives indeed; these are the angels
That are the keepers' saints.
2nd Hunt. I like a woman
That handles the deer's dowsets with discretion,
And pays us by proportion.
1st Hunt. 'Tis no treason
To think this good old lady has a stump yet
That may require a coral.
2nd Hunt. And the bells too;
She has lost a friend of me else.


But here's the clerk:
No more, for fear o' the bell-ropes.
Prot. How now, keepers?
Saw you the King?
1st Hunt. Yes, sir; he's newly mounted,
And, as we take it, ridden home.
Prot. Farewell, then [Exeunt Huntsmen.


Mart. My honoured lord, fortune has made me happy
To meet with such a man of men to side me.
Prot. How, sir? I know you not,
Nor what your fortune means.
Mart. Few words shall serve:
I am betrayed, sir; innocent and honest,
Malice and violence are both against me,
Basely and foully laid for; for my life, sir;
Danger is now about me, now in my throat, sir.
Prot. Where, sir.
Mart. Nay, I fear not;
And let it now pour down in storms upon me,
I have met a noble guard.
Prot. Your meaning, sir?
For I have present business.
Mart. Oh, my lord,
Your honour cannot leave a gentleman,
At least a fair design of this brave nature,
To which your worth is wedded, your profession
Hatched in and made one piece, in such a peril.
There are but six, my lord.
Prot. What six?
Mart. Six villains,
Sworn and in pay to kill me.
Prot. Six?
Mart. Alas, sir,
What can six do, or six score, now you are present?
Your name will blow 'em off: say they have shot too;
Who dare present a piece? your valour's proof, sir.
Prot. No, I'll assure you, sir, nor my discretion
Against a multitude. 'Tis true, I dare fight
Enough, and well enough, and long enough;
But wisdom, sir, and weight of what is on me,
In which I am no more mine own nor your's, sir,
Nor, as I take it, any single danger
But what concerns my place, tells me directly,
Beside my person, my fair reputation,
If I thrust into crowds and seek occasions,
Suffers opinion. Six? why Hercules
Avoided two, man: yet, not to give example,
But only for your present danger's sake, sir,
Were there but four, sir, I cared not if I killed 'em;
They'll serve to whet my sword.
Mart. There are but four, sir;
I did mistake them: but four such as Europe,
Excepting your great valour_____
Prot. Well considered,
I will not meddle with 'em; four in honour
Are equal with four scores, beside: they are people
Only directed by their fury.
Mart. So much nobler
Shall be your way of justice.
Prot. That I find not.
Mart. You will not leave me thus?
Prot. I would not leave you;
But, look you, sir, men of my place and business
Must not be questioned thus.
Mart. You cannot pass, sir,
Now they have seen me with you, without danger:
They are here, sir, within hearing. Take but two.
Prot. Let the law take 'em! Take a tree, sir—I
Will take my horse—that you may keep with safety,
If they have brought no hand-saws. Within this hour
I'll send you rescue and a toil to take 'em.
Mart. You shall not go so poorly: stay but one, sir.
Prot. I have been so hampered with these rescues,
So hewed and tortured, that the truth is, sir,
I have mainly vowed against 'em: yet for your sake,
If, as you say, there be but one, I'll stay
And see fair play o' both sides.
Mart. There is no more, sir,
And, as I doubt, a base one too.
Prot. Fie on him!
Go, lug him out by the ears.
Mart. [Seizing him by the ears.] Yes, this is he, sir;
The basest in the kingdom.
Prot. Do you know me?
Mart. Yes, for a general fool, a knave, a coward,
An upstart stallion, bawd, beast, barking puppy,
That dares not bite.
Prot. The best man best knows patience.
Mart. [Kicking him.] Yes, this way, sir. Now draw your sword and
right you,
Or render it to me; for one you shall do.
Prot. If wearing it may do you any honour,
I shall be glad to grace you; there it is, sir.
[Gives his sword.
Mart. Now get you home, and tell your lady-mistress,
She has shot up a sweet mushroom: quit your place too,
And say you are counselled well; thou wilt be beaten else
By thine own lanceprisadoes, when they know thee,
That tuns of oil of roses will not cure thee.
Go, get you to your foining work at court,
And learn to sweat again and eat dry mutton;
And armour like a frost will search your bones
And make you roar, you rogue. Not a reply,
For, if you do, your ears go of.
Prot. Still patience! [Exeunt severally.

SCENE IV.—A Hall in the Palace of THIERRY. A Banquet set out.
Loud music within.


Thi. It is your place; and though in all things else
You may and ever shall command me, yet
In this I'll be obeyed.
Ord. Sir, the consent
That made me yours shall never teach me to
Repent I am so; yet, be you but pleased
To give me leave to say so much, the honour
You offer me were better given to her,
To whom you owe the power of giving.
Thi. Mother,
You hear this, and rejoice in such a blessing
That pays to you so large a share of duty.—
But, fie! no more! for as you hold a place
Nearer my heart than she, you must sit nearest
To all those graces that are in the power
Of majesty to bestow.
Brun. Which I'll provide
Shall be short-lived. [Aside.]—Lecure.
Lec. I have it ready.
Brun. 'Tis well; wait on our cup.
Lec. You honour me.
Thi. We are dull; no object to provoke mirth?
Theod. Martell,
If you remember, sir, will grace your feast
With something that will yield matter of mirth,
Fit for no common view.
Thi. Touching Protaldy?
Theod. You have it.
Brun. What of him? I fear his baseness,
In spite of all the titles that my favours
Have clothed him with, will make discovery
Of what is yet concealed. [Aside.

Enter MARTELL with PROTALDY'S sword.

Theod. Look, sir, he has it:
Nay, we shall have peace, when so great a soldier
As the renowned Protaldy will give up
His sword rather than use it.
Brun. 'Twas thy plot,
Which I will turn on thine own head. [Aside.
Thi. Pray you, speak;
How won you him to part from 't?
Mart. Won him, sir?
He would have yielded it upon his knees,
Before he would have hazarded the exchange
Of a fillip of the forehead. Had you willed me,
I durst have undertook he should have sent you
His nose, provided that the loss of it
Might have saved the rest of his face. He is, sir,
The most unutterable coward that e'er nature
Blessed with hard shoulders; which were only given him
To the ruin of bastinadoes.
Thi. Possible?
Theod. Observe but how she frets!
Mart. Why, believe it,
But that I know the shame of this disgrace
Will make the beast to live with such, and never
Presume to come more among men, I'll hazard
My life upon it, that a boy of twelve
Should scourge him hither like a parish-top,
And make him dance before you.
Brun. Slave, thou liest!
Thou dar'st as well speak treason in the hearing
Of those that have the power to punish it,
As the least syllable of this before him:
But 'tis thy hate to me.
Mart. Nay, pray you, madam;
I have no ears to hear you, though a foot
To let you understand what he is.
Brun. Villain!
Theod. You are too violent.


Prot. The worst that can come
Is blanketing; for beating and such virtues
I have been long acquainted with. [Aside.
Mart. Oh, strange!
Baw. Behold the man you talk of!
Brun. Give me leave!
Or free thyself—think in what place you are—
From the foul imputation that is laid
Upon thy valour—be bold, I'll protect you—
Or here I vow—deny it or forswear it—
These honours which thou wear'st unworthily—
Which, be but impudent enough and keep them—
Shall be torn from thee with thy eyes.
Prot. I have it.—
My valour? is there any here, beneath
The style of king, dares question it?
Thi. This is rare!
Prot. Which of my actions, which have still been noble,
Has rendered me suspected?
Thi. Nay, Martell,
You must not fall off.
Mart. Oh, sir, fear it not:—
Do you know this sword?
Prot. Yes.
Mart. Pray you, on what terms
Did you part with it?
Prot. Part with it, say you?
Mart. So.
Thi. Nay, study not an answer; confess freely.
Prot. Oh, I remember 't now. At the stag's fall,
As we to-day were hunting, a poor fellow,
(And, now I view you better, I may say
Much of your pitch,) this silly wretch I spoke of,
With his petition falling at my feet,
(Which much against my will he kissed,) desired
That, as a special means for his preferment,
I would vouchsafe to let him use my sword
To cut off the stag's head.
Brun. Will you hear that?
Baw. This lie bears a similitude of truth.
Prot. I, ever courteous (a great weakness in me),
Granted his humble suit.
Mart. Oh, impudence!
Thi. This change is excellent.
Mart. A word with you.
Deny it not! I was that man disguised;
You know my temper, and, as you respect
A daily cudgelling for one whole year,
Without a second pulling by the ears,
Or tweaks by the nose, or the most precious balm
You used of patience, (patience, do you mark me?)
Confess before these kings with what base fear
Thou didst deliver it.
Prot. Oh, I shall burst!
And, if I have not instant liberty
To tear this fellow limb by limb, the wrong
Will break my heart, although Herculean
And somewhat bigger! There's my gage: pray you here
Let me redeem my credit!
Thi. Ha, ha!—Forbear!
Mart. Pray you, let me take it up; and if I do not,
Against all odds of armour and of weapons,
With this make him confess it on his knees,
Cut off my head.
Prot. No, that's my office.
Baw. Fie,
You take the hangman's place!
Ord. Nay, good my lord,
Let me atone this difference: do not suffer
Our bridal night to be the Centaurs' feast.—
You are a knight, and bound by oath to grant
All just suits unto ladies: for my sake
Forget your supposed wrong.
Prot. Well, let him thank you:
For your sake he shall live, perhaps a day;
And may be, on submission, longer:
Theod. Nay,
Martell, you must be patient.
Mart. I am yours;
And this slave shall be once more mine.
Thi. Sit all:
One health, and so to bed; for I too long
Defer my choicest delicates.
Brun. Which, if poison
Have any power, thou shalt, like Tantalus,
Behold, and never taste [Aside].—Be careful.
Lec. Fear not.
Brun. Though it be rare in our sex, yet for once
I will begin a health.
Thi. Let it come freely!
Brun. Lecure, the cup! Here, to the son we hope
This night shall be an embrion! [Drinks.
Thi. You have named
A blessing that I most desired: I pledge you.
Give me a larger cup; that is too little
Unto so great a good.
Brun. Nay, then you wrong me;
Follow as I began.
Thi. Well, as you please. [Drinks.
Brun. Is't done?
Lec. Unto your wish, I warrant you;
For this night I durst trust him with my mother.
Thi. So, 'tis gone round. Lights! [They rise.
Brun. Pray you, use my service.
Ord. 'Tis that which I shall ever owe you, madam,
And must have none from you: pray, pardon me.
Thi. Good rest to all!
Theod. And to you pleasant labour!—
Martell, your company.—Madam, good night.
[Exeunt all but BRUN., PROT., LEC., and BAWD.
Brun. Nay, you have cause to blush; but I will hide it.
And, what's more, I forgive you. Is't not pity,
That thou, that art the first to enter combat
With any woman, and what's more, o'ercome her,
(In which she is best pleased,) should be so fearful
To meet a man?
Prot. Why, would you have me lose
That blood that's dedicated to your service,
In any other quarrel?
Brun. No, reserve it;
As I will study to preserve thy credit.—
You, sirrah, be't your care to find out one
That's poor, though valiant, that at any rate
Will, to redeem my servant's reputation,
Receive a public baffling.
Baw. Would your highness
Were pleased to inform me better of your purpose!
Brun. Why, one, sir, that would thus be boxed or kicked; [Strikes
kicks him.
Do you apprehend me now?
Baw. I feel you, madam.
The man that shall receive this from my lord,
Shall have a thousand crowns?
Prot. He shall.
Baw. Besides,
His day of bastinadoing past o'er,
He shall not lose your grace nor your good favour?
Brun. That shall make way to it.
Baw. It must be a man
Of credit in the court, that is to be
The foil unto your valour?
Prot. True, it should.
Baw. And if he have place there, 'tis not the worse?
Brun. 'Tis much the better.
Baw. If he be a lord,
'Twill be the greater grace?
Brun. Thou'rt in the right.
Baw. Why, then, behold that valiant man and lord
That for your sake will take a cudgelling!
For be assured, when it is spread abroad
That you have dealt with me, they'll give you out
For one of the Nine Worthies.
Brun. Out, you pandar!
Why, to beat thee is only exercise
For such as do affect it: lose not time
In vain replies, but do it.—Come, my solace,
Let us to bed; and, our desires once quenched,
We'll there determine of Theodoret's death,
For he's the engine used to ruin us.—
Yet one word more; Lecure, art thou assured
The potion will work?
Lec. My life upon it!
Brun. Come, my Protaldy, then, glut me with
Those best delights of man, that are denied
To her that does expect them, being a bride! [Exeunt


SCENE I.—An Apartment in the Palace of THIERRY.

Enter THIERRY and ORDELLA, as from bed.

THI. Sure, I have drunk the blood of elephants;
The tears of mandrakes and the marble-dew,
Mixed in my draught, have quenched my natural heat,
And left no spark of fire but in mine eyes,
With which I may behold my miseries.
Ye wretched flames which play upon my sight,
Turn inward! make me all one piece, though earth!
My tears shall overwhelm you else too.
Ord. What moves my lord to this strange sadness?
If any late discernèd want in me
Give cause to your repentance, care and duty
Shall find a painful way to recompense.
Thi. Are you yet frozen, veins? feel you a breath,
Whose temperate heat would make the north star reel,
Her icy pillars thawed, and do you not melt?
Draw nearer, yet nearer,
That from thy barren kiss thou may'st confess
I have not heat enough to make a blush.
Ord. Speak nearer to my understanding, like a husband.
Thi. How should he speak the language of a husband,
Who wants the tongue and organs of his voice?
Ord. It is a phrase will part with the same ease
From you with that you now deliver.
Thi. Bind not
His ears up with so dull a charm, who hath
No other sense left open: why should thy words
Find more restraint than thy free-speaking actions,
Thy close embraces, and thy midnight sighs,
The silent orators to slow desire?
Ord. Strive not to win content from ignorance,
Which must be lost in knowledge. Heaven can witness,
My farthest hope of good reached at your pleasure,
Which seeing alone may in your look be read:
Add not a doubtful comment to a text,
That in itself is direct and easy.
Thi. Oh, thou hast drunk the juice of hemlock too!
Or did upbraided Nature make this pair,
To shew she had not quite forgot her first
Justly-praised workmanship, the first chaste couple,
Before the want of joy taught guilty sight
A way, through shame and sorrow, to delight?
Say, may we mix, as in their innocence
When turtles kissed to confirm happiness,
Not to beget it?
Ord. I know no bar.
Thi. Should I believe thee, yet thy pulse beats woman,
And says, the name of wife did promise thee
The blest reward of duty to thy mother;
Who gave so often witness of her joy,
When she did boast thy likeness to her husband.
Ord. 'Tis true,
That to bring forth a second to yourself,
Was only worthy of my virgin-loss;
And should I prize you less unpatterned, sir,
Than being exemplified? Is't not more honour
To be possessor of unequalled virtue
Than what is paralleled? Give me belief;
The name of mother knows no way of good
More than the end in me: who weds for lust
Is oft a widow: when I married you,
I lost the name of maid to gain a title
Above the wish of change, which that part can
Only maintain is still the same in man.
His virtue and his calm society;
Which no grey hairs can threaten to dissolve,
Nor wrinkles bury.
Thi. Confine thyself to silence, lest thou take
That part of reason from me is only left
To give persuasion to me I am a man;
Or say, thou hast never seen the rivers haste
With gladsome speed to meet the amorous sea.
Ord. Ne'er but to praise the coolness of their streams.
Thi. Nor viewed the kids, taught by their lustful fires,
Pursue each other through the wanton lawns,
And liked the sport.
Ord. As it made way unto their envied rest,
With weary knots binding their harmless eyes.
Thi. Nor do you know the reason why the dove,
One of the pair your hands wont hourly feed,
So often clipt and kissed her happy mate?
Ord. Unless it were to welcome his wished sight,
Whose absence only gave her mourning voice.
Thi. And you could, dove-like, to a single object
Bind your loose spirits? to one? nay, such a one
Whom only eyes and ears must flatter good,
Your surer sense made useless? nay, myself,
As in my all of good, already known?
Ord. Let proof plead for me: let me be mewed up
Where never eye may reach me but your own;
And when I shall repent but in my looks;
If sigh—
Thi. Or shed a tear that's warm?
Ord. But in your sadness_____
Thi. Or when you hear the birds call for their mates,
Ask if it be Saint Valentine, their coupling day?
Ord. If any thing may make a thought suspected
Of knowing any happiness but you,
Divorce me by the title of Most Falsehood!
Thi. Oh, who would know a wife,
That might have such a friend! Posterity,
Henceforth lose the name of blessing, and leave
The earth inhabited to people Heaven!


Mart. All happiness to Thierry and Ordella!
Thi. 'Tis a desire but borrowed from me; my happiness
Shall be the period of all good men's wishes,
Which friends, nay, dying fathers shall bequeath,
And in my one give all. Is there a duty
Belongs to any power of mine, or love
To any virtue I have right to? Here, place it here;
Ordella's name shall only bear command,
Rule, title, sovereignty.
Brun. What passion sways my son?
Thi. Oh, mother, she has doubled every good
The travail of your blood made possible
To my glad being!
Prot. He should have done
Little to her, he is so light-hearted. [Aside.
Thi. Brother, friends, if honour unto shame,
If wealth to want, enlarge the present sense,
My joys are unbounded. Instead of question,
Let it be envy not to bring a present
To the high offering of our mirth! banquets and masques
Keep waking our delights, mocking night's malice,
Whose dark brow would fright pleasure from us! our court
Be but one stage of revels, and each eye
The scene where our content moves!
Theod. There shall want
Nothing to express our shares in your delight, sir,
Mart. Till now I ne'er repented the estate
Of widower.
Thi. Music, why art thou so
Slow-voiced? It stays thy presence, my Ordella;
This chamber is a sphere too narrow for
Thy all-moving virtue. Make way, free way, I say!
Who must alone her sex's want supply,
Had need to have a room both large and high.
Mart. This passion's above utterance.
Theod. Nay, credulity.
[Exeunt all but THIERRY and BRUNHALT.
Brun. Why, son, what mean you?
Are you a man?
Thi. No, mother, I am no man:
Were I a man, how could I be thus happy?
Brun. How can a wife be author of this joy then?
Thi. That, being no man, I am married to no woman:
The best of men in full ability
Can only hope to satisfy a wife;
And, for that hope ridiculous, I in my want,
And such defective poverty, that to her bed
From my first cradle brought no strength but thought,
Have met a temperance beyond her's that rocked me,
Necessity being her bar; where this
Is so much senseless of my deprived fire,
She knows it not a loss by her desire.
Brun. It is beyond my admiration.
Thi. Beyond your sex's faith:
The unripe virgins of our age, to hear it,
Will dream themselves to women, and convert
The example to a miracle.
Brun. Alas, 'tis your defect moves my amazement!
But what ill can be separate from ambition?
Cruel Theodoret!
Thi. What of my brother?
Brun. That to his name your barrenness adds rule;
Who, loving the effect, would not be strange
In favouring the cause: look on the profit,
And gain will quickly point the mischief out.
Thi. The name of father, to what I possess,
Is shame and care.
Brun. Were we begot to single happiness,
I grant you; but from such a wife, such virtue,
To get an heir, what hermit would not find
Deserving argument to break his vow,
Even in his age, of chastity?
Thi. You teach a deaf man language.
Brun. The cause found out, the malady may cease.
Have you heard of one Leforte?
Thi. A learned astronomer, great magician,
Who lives hard-by retired.
Brun. Repair to him with the just hour and place
Of your nativity: fools are amazed at fate;
Griefs, but concealed, are never desperate.
Thi. You have timely wakened me; nor shall I sleep
Without the satisfaction of his art.
Brun. Wisdom prepares you to 't. [Exit THIERRY.

Lecure, met happily!
Lec. The ground answers your purpose, the conveyance
Being secure and easy, falling just
Behind the state set for Theodoret.
Brun. 'Tis well:
Your trust invites you to a second charge;
You know Leforte's cell?
Lec. Who constellated your fair birth.
Brun. Enough; I see thou know'st him. Where is Bawdber?
Lec. I left him careful of the project cast
To raise Protaldy's credit.
Brun. A sore that must be plastered; in whose wound
Others shall find their graves think themselves sound.
Your ear and quickest apprehension! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—The Presence Chamber in the Palace of THIERRY.

Enter BAWDBER and Servant.

Baw. This man of war will advance?
Serv. His hour's upon the stroke.
Baw. Wind him back, as you favour my ears: I love
no noise in my head; my brains have hitherto been
employed in silent businesses.
Serv. The gentleman is within your reach, sir.


Baw. Give ground, whilst I drill my wits to the
encounter. [Exit Servant.] De Vitry, I take it.
De Vit. All that's left of him.
Baw. Is there another parcel of you? If it be at
pawn, I will gladly redeem it, to make you wholly mine.
De Vit. You seek too hard a pennyworth.
Baw. You do ill to keep such distance; your parts
have been long known to me, howsoever you please to
forget acquaintance.
De Vit. I must confess, I have been subject to lewd company.
Baw. Thanks for your good remembrance! You have
been a soldier, De Vitry, and borne arms.
De Vit. A couple of unprofitable ones, that have only
served to get me a stomach to my dinner.
Baw. Much good may it do you, sir!
De Vit. You should have heard me say, I had dined first: I have built
on an unwholesome ground, raised up a house before I knew a tenant, marched to
meet weariness, fought to find want and hunger.
Baw. 'Tis time you put up your sword, and run away
For meat, sir: nay, if I had not withdrawn,
Ere now I might have kept the fast with you;
But since the way to thrive is never late,
What is the nearest course to profit, think you?
De Vit. It may be your worship will say bawdry.
Baw. True sense, bawdry.
De Vit. Why, is there five kinds of 'em? I never knew but one.
Baw. I'll show you a new way of prostitution: Fall back! further yet!
further! There is fifty crowns; do but as much to Protaldy, the queen's
favourite, they are doubled. [Gives money.
De Vit. But thus much?
Baw. Give him but an affront as he comes to the presence, and in his
drawing make way, like a true bawd, to his valour, the sum's thy own; if you
take a scratch in the arm or so, every drop of blood weighs down a ducat.
De Vit. After that rate, I and my friends would beggar the kingdom.
Sir, you have made me blush to see my want,
Whose cure is such a cheap and easy purchase:
This is male-bawdry, belike.

Enter PROTALDY and a Lady.

Baw. See! you shall not be long earning your wages; your work's
your eyes.
De Vit. Leave it to my handling; I'll fall upon 't instantly.
Baw. What opinion will the managing of this affair bring to my
my invention tickles with apprehension on 't! [Aside.
Prot. These are the joys of marriage, lady,
Whose sights are able to dissolve virginity.
Speak freely;
Do you not envy the bride's felicity?
Lady. How should I, being partner of 't?
Prot. What you
Enjoy is but the banquet's view; the taste
Stands from your palate: if he impart by day
So much of his content, think what night gave!
De Vit. Will you have a relish of wit, lady?
Baw. This is the man.
Lady. If it be not dear, sir.
De Vit. If you affect cheapness, how can you prize this
sullied ware so
much? Mine is fresh, my own, not retailed.
Prot. You are saucy, sirrah!
De Vit. The fitter to be in the dish with such dry stockfish as you
are. [PROTALDY strikes him.] How! strike?
Baw. Remember the condition, as you look for payment!
De Vit. That box was left out of the bargain.
[Strikes PROTALDY.
Prot. Help, help, help!
Baw. Plague of the scrivener's running hand! what a blow is this to

Attendants, and Guards.

Thi. What villain dares this outrage?
De Vit. Hear me, sir. This creature hired me with fifty crowns in
to let Protaldy have the better of me at single rapier on a made quarrel: he,
mistaking the weapon, lays me over the chaps with his club-fist, for which I wa
bold to teach him the art of memory.
Thi. Theod. Martell, &c. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Theod. Your general, mother, will display himself, Spite of our
I see.
Thi. Forbear these civil jars. Fie, Protaldy, So open in your
projects?—Avoid our presence, sirrah!
De Vit. Willingly.—If you have any more wages to earn, you see I
can take pains.
Theod. There's somewhat for thy labour
More than was promised. Ha, ha, ha! [Exit DE VITRY.
Baw. Where could I wish myself now? in the Isle of Dogs, so I might
scape scratching; for I see by her cat's eyes I shall be clawed fearfully.
Thi. We'll hear no more on't. Music, drown all sadness! [Soft
Command the revellers in. [Exit an Attendant.
At what a rate I'd purchase
My mother's absence, to give my spleen full liberty!
[THIERRY and THEODORET seat themselves, each in his state.

Enter several Revellers.

Brun. Speak not a thought's delay! it names thy ruin.
[Apart to PROTALDY.
Prot. I had thought my life had borne more value with you.
Brun. Thy loss carries mine with 't; let that secure thee.
The vault is ready, and the door conveys to 't
Falls just behind his chair; the blow once given,
Thou art unseen.
Prot. I cannot feel more than I fear, I'm sure.
Brun. Be gone, and let them laugh their own destruction. [PROTALDY
Thi. You'll add unto her rage.
Theod. 'Sfoot, I shall burst,
Unless I vent myself: ha, ha, ha!
Brun. Me, sir? [To one of the Revellers.
You never could have found a time to invite
More willingness in my dispose to pleasure.
Memb. Would you would please to make some other choice! [To another
of the Revellers.
Rev. 'Tis a disgrace would dwell upon me, lady,
Should you refuse.
Memb. Your reason conquers.—My grandmother's looks
Have turned all air to earth in me; they sit
Upon my heart, like night-charms, black and heavy.
[Aside.—They dance.
Thi. You are too much libertine.
Theod. The fortune of the fool persuades my laughter
More than his cowardice: was ever rat
Ta'en by the tail thus? ha, ha, ha!
Thi. Forbear, I say!
Prot. [Rising from the trap-door behind THEODORET'S state.]
eye looks this way; I will wink and strike,
Lest I betray myself. [Stabs THEODORET, and disappears
Theod. Ha! did you not see one near me?
Thi. How! near you? why do you look so pale, brother?—
Treason, treason! [THEODORET dies.
Memb. Oh, my presage!—Father!
Ord. Brother!
Mart. Prince, noble prince!
Thi. Make the gates sure! search into every angle
And corner of the court! Oh, my shame!—Mother,
Your son is slain, Theodoret, noble Theodoret,
Here in my arms, too weak a sanctuary
'Gainst treachery and murder!—Say, is the traitor taken?
1st Guard. No man hath passed the chamber, on my life, sir.
Thi. Set present fire unto the place, that all
Unseen may perish in this mischief! Who
Moves slow to it shall add unto the flame.
Brun. What mean you? give me your private hearing.
Thi. Persuasion is a partner in the crime;
I will renounce my claim unto a mother,
If you make offer on't.
Brun. Ere a torch can take flame, I will produce
The author of the fact.
Thi. Withdraw but for your lights.
Memb. Oh, my too-true suspicion!
[Exeunt all except THIERRY and BRUNHALT.
Thi. Speak! where's the engine to this horrid act?
Brun. Here you do behold her; upon whom
Make good your causeless rage! The deed was done
By my incitement, and not yet repented.
Thi. Whither did nature start when you conceived
A birth so unlike woman? say, what part
Did not consent to make a son of him,
Reserved itself within you to his ruin?
Brun. Ha, ha! a son of mine! do not dissever
Thy father's dust, shaking his quiet urn,
To which thy breath would send so foul an issue:
My son! thy brother!
Thi. Was not Theodoret my brother?
Or is thy tongue confederate with thy heart
To speak and do only things monstrous?
Brun. Hear me, and thou shalt make thine own belief.
Thy still-with-sorrow-mentioned father lived
Three careful years in hope of wishèd heirs,
When I conceived, being from his jealous fear
Enjoined to quiet home. One fatal day,
Transported with my pleasure to the chase,
I forced command, and in pursuit of game
Fell from my horse, lost both my child and hopes.
Despair, which only in his love saw life
Worthy of being, from a gardener's arms
Snatched this unlucky brat, and called it mine;
When the next year repaid my loss with thee,
But in thy wrongs preserved my misery;
Which that I might diminish though not end,
My sighs and wet eyes from thy father's will
Bequeathed this largest part of his dominions
Of France unto thee; and only left Austracia
Unto that changeling, whose life affords
Too much of ill 'gainst me to prove my words,
And call him stranger.
Thi. Come, do not weep: I must, nay, do believe you;
And, in my father's satisfaction, count it
Merit, not wrong or loss.
Brun. You do but flatter; there is anger yet
Flames in your eyes.
Thi. See, I will quench it, and confess that you
Have suffered double travail for me.
Brun. You will not fire the house then?
Thi. Rather reward the author who gave cause
Of knowing such a secret; my oath and duty
Shall be assurance on 't.
Brun. Protaldy, rise,
Good faithful servant! Heaven knows how hardly
He was drawn to this attempt.

PROTALDY rises from the Trap-door.

Thi. Protaldy? He had
A gardener's fate, I'll swear, fell by thy hand:
Sir, we do owe unto you for this service.
Brun. Why look'st thou so dejected?
Prot. I want a little
Shift, lady; nothing else.

Enter MARTELL and Attendants.

Mart. The fires are ready;
Please it your grace withdraw, whilst we perform
Your pleasure.
Thi. Reserve them for the body: since
He had the fate to live and die a prince,
He shall not lose the title in his funeral.
Mart. His fate to live a prince?—Thou old impiety,
Made up by lust and mischief!—Take up the body.
[Exeunt with the body of THEODORET.

SCENE III.—A Room in the Dwelling of LE FORTE.

Enter LECURE disguised as LE FORTE, and Servant.

Lec. Dost think Le Forte's sure enough?
Serv. As bonds can make him. I have turned his eyes to the east, and
left him gaping after the morning-star: his head is a mere astrolabe; his eyes
stand for the poles; the gag in his mouth being the coachman, his five teeth
have the nearest resemblance to Charles' wain.
Lec. Thou hast cast a figure
Which shall raise thee. Direct my hair a little;
And in my likeness to him read a fortune
Suiting thy largest hopes.
Serv. You are so far 'bove likeness, you are the same:
If you love mirth, persuade him from himself;
'Tis but an astronomer out of the way,
And lying will bear the better place for't.
Lec. I
Have profitabler use in hand. Haste to
The queen, and tell her how you left me changed!
[Exit Servant.
Who would not serve this virtuous active queen?
She that loves mischief 'bove the man that does it,
And him above her pleasure, yet knows no Heaven else.


Thi. How well this loneness suits the art I seek,
Discovering secret and succeeding fate,
Knowledge that puts all lower happiness on,
With a remiss and careless hand!— [Aside.
Fair peace unto your meditations, father!
Lec. The same to you you bring, sir!
Thi. Drawn by your much-famed skill, I come to know
Whether the man who owes this character
Shall e'er have issue. [Gives scroll.
Lec. A resolution falling with most ease
Of any doubt you could have named. He is a prince
Whose fortune you inquire.
Thi. He is nobly born.
Lec. He had a dukedom lately fallen unto him
By one called brother, who has left a daughter.
Thi. The question is of heirs, not lands.
Lec. Heirs? yes;
He shall have heirs.
Thi. Begotten of his body? Why look'st thou pale?
Thou canst not suffer in his want.
Lec. Nor thou;
I neither can nor will give farther knowledge
To thee.
Thi. Thou must: I am the man myself,
Thy sovereign; who must owe unto thy wisdom
In the concealing of my barren shame.
Lec. Your grace doth wrong your stars: if this be yours,
You may have children.
Thi. Speak it again.
Lec. You may have fruitful issue.
Thi. By whom? when? how?
Lec. It was the fatal means first struck my blood
With the cold hand of wonder, when I read it
Printed upon your birth.
Thi. Can there be any way unsmooth, has end
So fair and good?
Lec. We, that behold the sad aspècts of Heaven
Leading sense-blinded men, feel grief enough
To know, though not to speak, their miseries.
Thi. Sorrow must lose a name, where mine finds life:
If not in thee, at least ease pain with speed,
Which must know no cure else.
Lec. Then thus:
The first of females which your eye shall meet,
Before the sun next rise, coming from out
The temple of Diana, being slain, you live
Father of many sons.
Thi. Call'st thou this sadness? can I beget a son
Deserving less than to give recompense
Unto so poor a loss? Whate'er thou art,
Rest peaceable, blest creature, born to be
Mother of princes, whose grave shall be more fruitful

Than others' marriage-beds! Methinks his art
Should give her form and happy figure to me;
I long to see my happiness: he 's gone.
As I remember, he named my brother's daughter:
Were it my mother, 'twere a gainful death
Could give Ordella's virtue living breath. [Exit.


SCENE I.—Before the Temple of Diana.


MART. Your grace is early stirring.
Thi. How can he sleep,
Whose happiness is laid up in an hour
He knows comes stealing toward him? Oh, Martell,
Is't possible the longing bride, whose wishes
Out-run her fears, can, on that day she's married,
Consume in slumbers? or his arms rust in ease,
That hears the charge, and see the honoured purchase
Ready to gild his valour? Mine is more,
A power above these passions: this day France
(France, that in want of issue withers with us,
And, like an agèd river, runs his head
Into forgotten ways) again I ransom,
And his fair course turn right: this day, Thierry,
The son of France, whose manly powers like prisoners
Have been tied up and fettered, by one death,
Gives life to thousand ages; this day beauty,
The envy of the world, the pleasure, glory,
Content above the world, desire beyond it,
Are made mine own and useful.
Mart. Happy woman
That dies to do these things!
Thi. But ten times happier
That lives to do the greater! Oh, Martell,
The gods have heard me now! and those that scorned me,
Mothers of many children, and blest fathers,
That see their issues like the stars unnumbered,
Their comforts more than them, shall in my praises
Now teach their infants songs; and tell their ages
From such a son of mine, or such a queen,
That chaste Ordella brings me. Blessèd marriage,
The chain that links two holy loves together!
And in the marriage more than blest Ordella,
That comes so near the sacrament itself,
The priests doubt whether purer!
Mart. Sir, you are lost.
Thi. I prithee, let me be so.
Mart. The day wears;
And those that have been offering early prayers
Are now retiring homeward.
Thi. Stand, and mark then.
Mart. Is it the first must suffer?
Thi. The first woman.
Mart. What hand shall do it, sir?
Thi. This hand, Martell;
For who less dare presume to give the gods
An incense of this offering?
Mart. Would I were she!
For such a way to die, and such a blessing,
Can never crown my parting.

Two Men from the Temple pass over the Stage.

Thi. What are those?
Mart. Men, men, sir, men.
Thi. The plagues of men light on 'em!
They cross my hopes like heares!

A Priest from the Temple passes over the Stage.

Who's that?
Mart. A priest, sir.
Mart. May not these rascals serve, sir,
Well hanged and quartered?
Thi. No.
Mart. Here comes a woman.

Enter from the Temple ORDELLA, veiled.

Thi. Stand, and behold her then.
Mart. I think, a fair one,
Thi. Move not, whilst I prepare her. May her peace,
(Like his whose innocence the gods are pleased with,
And offering at their altars gives his soul
Far purer than those fires,) pull Heaven upon her!
You holy powers, no human spot dwell in her!
No love of any thing but you and goodness
Tie her to earth! fear be a stranger to her,
And all weak blood's affections but thy hope
Let her bequeath to women! Hear me, Heaven!
Give her a spirit masculine and noble,
Fit for yourselves to ask and me to offer!
Oh, let her meet my blow, dote on her death;
And, as a wanton vine bows to the pruner,
That by his cutting off more may increase,
So let her fall to raise me fruit!—Hail, woman,
The happiest and the best (if thy dull will
Do not abuse thy fortune) France e'er found yet!
Ord. She 's more than dull, sir, less and worse than woman,
That may inherit such an infinite
As you propound, a greatness so near goodness,
And brings a will to rob her.
Thi. Tell me this, then;
Was there e'er woman yet, or may be found,
That for fair fame, unspotted memory,
For virtue's sake, and only for itself-sake,
Has or dare make a story?
Ord. Many dead, sir;
Living, I think, as many.
Thi. Say, the kingdom
May from a woman's will receive a blessing,
The king and kingdom, not a private safety,
A general blessing, lady?
Ord. A general curse
Light on her heart denies it!
Thi. Full of honour,
And such examples as the former ages
Were but dim shadows of and empty figures?
Ord. You strangely stir me, sir; and were my weakness
In any other flesh but modest woman's,
You should not ask more questions. May I do it?
Thi. You may; and, what is more, you must.
Ord. I joy in't
Above a moderate gladness. Sir, you promise
It shall be honest?
Thi. As ever time discovered.
Ord. Let it be what it may then, what it dare,
I have a mind will hazard it.
Thi. But, hark you;
What may that woman merit makes this blessing?
Ord. Only her duty, sir.
Thi. 'Tis terrible!
Ord. 'Tis so much the more noble.
Thi. 'Tis full of fearful shadows.
Ord. So is sleep, sir,
Or any thing that's merely ours and mortal;
We were begotten gods else: but those fears,
Feeling but once the fires of nobler thoughts,
Fly, like the shapes of clouds we form, to nothing.
Thi. Suppose it death!
Ord. I do.
Thi. And endless parting
With all we can call ours, with all our sweetness,
With youth, strength, pleasure, people, time, nay, reason?
For in the silent grave, no conversation,
No joyful tread of friends, no voice of lovers,
No careful father's counsel; nothing's heard
Nor nothing is, but all oblivion,
Dust and an endless darkness: and dare you, woman,
Desire this place?
Ord. 'Tis of all sleeps the sweetest:
Children begin it to us, strong men seek it,
And kings from height of all their painted glories
Fall like spent exhalations to this centre:
And those are fools that fear it, or imagine
A few unhandsome pleasures or life's profits
Can recompense this place; and mad that stay it,
Till age blow out their lights, or rotten humours
Bring them dispersed to the earth.
Thi. Then you can suffer?
Ord. As willingly as say it.
Thi. Martell, a wonder!
Here is a woman that dares die.—Yet, tell me,
Are you a wife?
Ord. I am, sir.
Thi. And have children?—
She sighs and weeps.
Ord. Oh, none, sir!
Thi. Dare you venture,
For a poor barren praise you ne'er shall hear,
To part with these sweet hopes?
Ord. With all but Heaven,
And yet die full of children: he that reads me,
When I am ashes, is my son in wishes,
And those chaste dames that keep my memory,
Singing my yearly requiems, are my daughters.
Thi. Then there is nothing wanting but my knowledge
And what I must do, lady.
Ord. You are the King, sir,
And what you do I'll suffer; and that blessing
That you desire, the gods shower on the kingdom!
Thi. Thus much before I strike, then; for I must kill you,
The gods have willed it so: they've made the blessing
Must make France young again and me a man.
Keep up your strength still nobly.
Ord. Fear me not.
Thi. And meet death like a measure.
Ord. I am steadfast.
Thi. Thou shalt be sainted, woman; and thy tomb
Cut out in crystal, pure and good as thou art;
And on it shall be graven, every age,
Succeeding peers of France that rise by thy fall,
Till thou liest there like old and fruitful Nature.
Dar'st thou behold thy happiness?
Ord. I dare, sir. [Pulls off her evil.
Thi. Ha! [Lets fall his sword.
Mart. Oh, sir, you must not do it!
Thi. No, I dare not!
There is an angel keeps that paradise,
A fiery angel, friend. Oh, virtue, virtue,
Ever and endless virtue!
Ord. Strike, sir, strike! [Kneels.
And if in my poor death fair France may merit,
Give me a thousand blows! be killing me
A thousand days!
Thi. First, let the earth be barren,
And man no more remembered! Rise, Ordella,
[Raises her.
The nearest to thy Maker; and the purest
That ever dull flesh showed us!—Oh, my heartstrings!
Mart. I see you full of wonder; therefore, noblest
And truest among women, I will tell you
The end of this strange accident.
Ord. Amazement
Has so much won upon my heart, that truly
I feel myself unfit to hear. Oh, sir,
My lord has slighted me!
Mart. Oh, no, sweet lady!
Ord. Robbed me of such a glory by his pity
And most unprovident respect—
Mart. Dear lady,
It was not meant to you.
Ord. Else where the day is,
And hours distinguish time, time runs to ages,
And ages end the world, I had been spoken.
Mart. I'll tell you what it was, if but your patience
Will give me hearing.
Ord. If I have transgressed,
Forgive me, sir!
Mart. Your noble lord was counselled
(Grieving the barrenness between you both,
And all the kingdom with him) to seek out
A man that knew the secrets of the gods:
He went, found such an one, and had this answer;
That, if he would have issue, on this morning,
(For this hour was prefixed him), he should kill
The first he met, being female, from the temple,
And then he should have children. The mistake
Is now too perfect, lady.
Ord. Still 'tis I, sir;
For may this work be done by common women?
Durst any but myself, that knew the blessing
And felt the benefit, assume this dying?
In any other 't had been lost and nothing,
A curse and not a blessing: I was figured;
And shall a little fondness bar my purchase?
Mart. Where should he hen seek children?
Ord. Where they are;
In wombs ordained for issues; in those beauties
That bless a marriage-bed, and make it proud
With kisses that conceive and fruitful pleasures:
Mine, like a grave, buries those loyal hopes,
And to a grave it covets.
Mart. You are too good,
Too excellent, too honest. Rob not us,
And those that shall hereafter seek example,
Of such inestimable worths in woman,
Your lord of such obedience, all of honour,
In coveting a cruelty is not yours,
A will short of your wisdom! make not error
A tombstone of your virtues, whose fair life
Deserves a constellation! Your lord dare not,
He cannot, ought not, must not run this hazard;
He makes a separation Nature shakes at,
The gods deny, and everlasting Justice
Shrinks back and sheathes her sword at.
Ord. All's but talk, sir;
I find to what I am reserved and needful:
And though my lord's compassion makes me poor,
And leaves me in my best use, yet a strength
Above mine own, or his dull fondness, finds me;
The gods have given it to me. [Draws a dagger.
Mart. Self-destruction? [Holds her.
Now all good angels bless thee! Oh, sweet lady,
You are abused! this is a way to shame you,
And with you all that know you, all that love you;
To ruin all you build! Would you be famous?
Is that your end?
Ord. I would be what I should be.
Mart. Live, and confirm the gods then! live, and be loaden
With more than olives bear or fruitful autumn!
This way you kill your merit, kill your cause,
And him you would raise life to. Where or how
Got you these bloody thoughts? what devil durst
Look on that angel-face, and tempt? do you know
What 'tis to die thus? how you strike the stars
And all good things above? do you feel
What follows a self-blood? whither you venture,
And to what punishment? Excellent lady,
Be not thus cozened, do not fool yourself!
The priest was never his own sacrifice,
But he that thought his hell here.
Ord. I am counselled.
Mart. And I am glad on't; lie, I know, you dare not.
Ord. I never have done yet.
Mart. Pray, take my comfort.
Was this a soul to lose? two more such women
Would save their sex. See, she repents and prays!
Oh, hear her, hear her! if there be a faith
Ableto reach your mercies, she hath sent it.
Ord. Now, good Martell, confirm me.
Mart. I will, lady,
And every hour advise you; for I doubt
Whether this plot be Heaven's, or hell's your mother,
And I will find it, if it be in mankind
To search the centre of it. In the mean time,
I'll give you out for dead, and by yourself,
And show the instrument; so shall I find
A joy that will betray her.
Ord. Do what's fittest,
And I will follow you.
Mart. Then ever live
Both able to engross all love and give! [Exeunt.

SCENE II.—An Apartment in the Palace of THIERRY.


Brun. I am in labour
To be delivered of that burthenous project
I have so long gone with. Ha, here's the midwife!


Or life, or death?
Lec. If in the supposition
Of her death in whose life you die, you ask me,
I think you are safe.
Brun. Is she dead?
Lec. I have used
All means to make her so: I saw him waiting
At the temple-door, and used such art within
That only she of all her sex was first
Given up unto his fury.
Brun. Which if love
Or fear made him forbear to execute
The vengeance he determined, his fond pity
Shall draw it on himself; for were there left
Not any man but he, to serve my pleasures,
Or from me to receive commands, (which are
The joys for which I love life,) he should be
Removed, and I alone left to be queen
O'er any part of goodness that's left in me.
Lec. If you are so resolved, I have provided
A means to ship him hence: Look upon this,
[Showing a handkerchief.
But touch it sparingly; for this once used,
Say but to dry a tear, will keep the eye-lid
From closing until death perform that office.
Brun. Give't me, I may have use of't; and on you
[Taking the handkerchief.
I'll make the first experiment, if one sigh
Or heavy look beget the least suspicion,
Childish compassion can thaw the ice
Of your so-long-congealed and flinty hardness:
'Slight, go on constant, or I shall!
Prot. Best lady,
We have no faculties which are not yours.
Lec. Nor will be any thing without you.
Brun. Be so,
And we will stand or fall together; for
Since we have gone so far that death must stay
The journey, which we wish should never end,
And innocent or guilty we must die,
When we do so, let's know the reason why.

Enter THIERRY and Courtiers.

Lec. The King.
Thi. We'll be alone. [Exeunt Courtiers.
Prot. I would I had
A convoy too, to bring me safe off
For rage, although it be allayed with sorrow,
Appears so dreadful in him, that I shake
To look upon it.
Brun. Coward, I will meet it,
And know from whence 't has birth.—Son, kingly Thierry!
Thi. Is cheating grown so common among men,
And thrives so well here, that the gods endeavour
To practise it above?
Brun. Your mother!
Thi. Ha!—
Or are they only careful to revenge,
Not to reward? or when for our offences
We study satisfaction, must the cure
Be worse than the disease?
Brun. Will you not hear me?
Thi. To lose the ability to perform those duties
For which I entertained the name of husband,
Asked more than common sorrow; but to impose
For the redress of that defect, a torture,
In marking her to death for whom alone
I felt that weakness as a want, requires
More than the making the head bald, or falling
[Tears his hair, and throws himself on the ground.
Thus flat upon the earth, or cursing that way,
Or praying this. Oh, such a scene of grief,
And so set down, (the world the stage to act on,)
May challenge a tragedian better practised
Than I am to express it! for my cause
Of passion is so strong, and my performance
So weak, that though the part be good, I fear
The ill acting of it will defraud it of
The poor reward it may deserve, men's pity.
Brun. I have given you way thus long: a king, and, what
Is more, my son, and yet a slave to that
Which only triumphs over cowards, sorrow?
For shame, look up!
Thi. Is't you? look down on me!
And if that you are capable to receive it,
Let that return to you that have brought forth
One marked out only for it! What are these?
Come they, upon your privilege, to tread on
The tomb of my afflictions?
Prot. No, not we, sir.
Thi. How dare you then omit the ceremony
Due to the funeral of all my hopes?
Or come unto the marriage of my sorrows,
But in such colours as may sort with them?
Prot. Alas, we will wear any thing.
Brun. This is madness:
Take but my counsel.
Thi. Yours? dare you again,
Though armed with the authority of a mother,
Attempt the danger that will fall on you,
If such another syllable awake it?
Go, and with yours be safe; I have such cause
Of grief, (nay, more, to love it,) that I will not
Have such as these be sharers in it.
Lec. Madam—
Prot. Another time were better.
Brun. Do not stir,
For I must be resolved, and will: be statues!


Thi. Ay, thou art welcome; and upon my soul
Thou art an honest man.—Do you see? he has tears
To lend to him whom prodigal expense
Of sorrow has made bankrupt of such treasure
Nay, thou dost well.
Mart. I would it might excuse
The ill I bring along!
Thi. Thou mak'st me smile
I' the height of my calamities: as if
There could be the addition of an atom
To the giant body of my miseries!
But try; for I will hear thee.—All sit down: 'tis death
[They seat themselves.
To any that shall dare to interrupt him
In look, gesture, or word.
Mart. And such attention
As is due to the last and the best story
That ever was delivered, will become you.
The grieved Ordella (for all other titles
But take away from that) having from me,
Prompted by your last parting groan, inquired
What drew it from you, and the cause soon learned,—
For she, whom barbarism could deny nothing,
With such prevailing earnestness desired it,
'Twas not in me, though it had been my death,
To hide it from her;—she, I say, in whom
All was that Athens, Rome, or warlike Sparta,
Have registered for good in their best women,
But nothing of their ill; knowing herself
Marked out (I know not by what power, but sure
A cruel one) to die to give you children;
Having first with a settled countenance
Looked up to Heaven, and then upon herself,
(It being the next best object,) and then smiled,
As if her joy in death to do you service
Would break forth in despite of the much sorrow
She showed she had to leave you; and then taking
Me by the hand, (this hand which I must ever
Love better than I have done, since she touched it,)
"Go," said she, "to my lord, (and to go to him
Is such a happiness I must not hope for,)
And tell him that he too much prized a trifle
Made only worthy in his love and her
Thankful acceptance, for her sake to rob
The orphan kingdom of such guardians as
Must of necessity descend from him;
And therefore in some part of recompense
Of his much love, and to show to the world
That 'twas not her fault only, but her fate,
That did deny to let her be the mother
Of such most certain blessings; yet, for proof
She did not envy her, that happy her
That is appointed to them, her quick end
Should make way for her." Which no sooner spoke,
But in a moment this too-ready engine
[Shows a dagger.
Made such a battery in the choicest castle
That ever Nature made to defend life,
That straight it shook and sunk.
Thi. Stay! dares any
Presume to shed a tear before me? or
Ascribe that worth unto themselves, to merit,
To do so for her? I have done; now on!
Mart. Fallen thus, once more she smiled, as if that death
For her had studied a new way to sever
The soul and body without sense of pain;
And then, "Tell him," quoth she, "what you have seen,
And with what willingness 'twas done; for which
My last request unto him is, that he
Would instantly make choice of one (most happy
In being so chosen) to supply my place;
By whom if Heaven bless him with a daughter,
In my remembrance let it bear my name."
Which said, she died.
Thi. I hear this, and yet live!
Heart, art thou thunder-proof? will nothing break thee?
She's dead; and what her entertainment may be
In the other world without me is uncertain;
And dare I stay here unresolved?
[Draws his sword. They hold him.
Mart. Oh, sir!
Brun. Dear son!
Prot. Great King!
Thi. Unhand me! am I fallen
So low that I have lost the power to be
Disposer of my own life?
Mart. Be but pleased
To borrow so much time of sorrow as
To call to mind her last request, for whom
(I must confess a loss beyond expression)
You turn your hand upon yourself: 'twas hers,
And dying hers, that you should live, and happy
In seeing little models of yourself,
By matching with another: and will you
Leave any thing that she desired ungranted?
And suffer such a life, that was laid down
For your sake only, to be fruitless?
Thi. Oh,
Thou dost throw charms upon me, against which
I cannot stop my ears—Bear witness, Heaven,
That not desire of life, nor love of pleasures,
Nor any future comforts, but to give
Peace to her blessèd spirit, in satisfying
Her last demand, makes me defer our meeting!
Which in my choice, and sudden choice, shall be
To all apparent.
Brun. How! do I remove one mischief,
To draw upon my head a greater? [Apart.
Thi. Go,
Thou only good man, to whom for herself
Goodness is dear: and prepare to inter it
In her that was—Oh, my heart!—my Ordella;
A monument worthy to be the casket
Of such a jewel.
Mart. Your command, that makes way
Unto my absence, is a welcome one;
For, but yourself, there's nothing here Martell
Can take delight to look on: yet some comfort
Goes back with me to her, who, though she want it,
Deserves all blessings. [Exit.
Brun. So soon to forget
The loss of such a wife, believe it, will
Be censured in the world.
Thi. Pray you, no more!
There is no argument you can use to cross it,
But does increase in me such a suspicion
I would not cherish.—Who's that?


Memb. One no guard
Can put back from access, whose tongue no threats
Nor prayers can silence; a bold suitor, and
For that which, if you are yourself, a king,
You were made so to grant it,—justice, justice!
Thi. With what assurance dare you hope for that
Which is denied to me? or how can I
Stand bound to be just unto such as are
Beneath me, that find none from those that are
Above me?
Memb. There is justice: 'twere unfit
That any thing but vengeance should fall on him,
That, by his giving way to more than murder,
(For my dear father's death was parricide,)
Makes it his own.
Brun. I charge you, hear her not!
Memb. Hell cannot stop just prayers from entering Heaven;
I must and will be heard.—Sir, but remember
That he that by her plot fell was your brother;
And the place where, your palace, against all
The inviolable rights of hospitality;
Your word, a king's word, given up for his safety;
His innocence, his protection; and the gods
Bound to revenge the impious breach of such
So great and sacred bonds: and can you wonder
(That, in not punishing such a horrid murder,
You did it) that Heaven's favour is gone from you?
Which never will return until his blood
Be washed away in hers.
Brun. Drag hence the wretch!
Thi. Forbear.—With what variety
Of torments do I meet! Oh, thou hast opened
A book, in which, writ down in bloody letters,
My conscience finds that I am worthy of
More than I undergo! but I'll begin,
For my Ordella's sake, and for thine own,
To make less Heaven's great anger. Thou hast lost
A father,—I to thee am so; the hope
Of a good husband,—in me have one; nor
Be fearful I am still no man; already
That weakness is gone from me.
Brun. That it might
Have ever grown inseparably upon thee! [Aside.
What will you do? Is such a thing as this
Worthy the loved Ordella's place? the daughter
Of a poor gardener?
Memb. Your son!
Thi. The power
To take away that lowness is in me.
Brun. Stay yet; for rather than thou shalt add
Incest unto thy other sins, I will,
With hazard of my own life, utter all:
Theodoret was thy brother.
Thi. You denied it
Upon your oath; nor will I now believe you:
Your Protean turnings cannot change my purpose.
Memb. And for me, be assured the means to be
Revenged on thee, vile hag, admits no thought
But what tends to it. [Exit.
Brun. Is it come to that?
Then have at the last refuge!—[Aside.] Art thou grown
Insensible in ill, that thou goest on
Without the least compunction? There, take that
[Gives him the handkerchief.
To witness that thou hadst a mother, which
Foresaw thy cause of grief and sad repentance,
That, so soon after blest Ordella's death,
Without a tear, thou canst embrace another,
Forgetful man!
Thi. Mine eyes, when she is named,
Cannot forget their tribute, and your gift
Is not unuseful now.
Lec. He's past all cure;
That only touch is death.
Thi. This night I'll keep it;
To-morrow I will send it you and full
Of my affliction. [Exit.
Brun. Is the poison mortal?
Lec. Above the help of physic.
Brun. To my wish.
Now for our own security. You, Protaldy,
Shall this night post towards Austracia
With letters to Theodoret's bastard son,
In which he will make known what for his rising
We have done to Thierry: no denial
Nor no excuse in such acts must be thought of,
Which all dislike, and all again commend
When they are brought unto a happy end. [Exeunt.


SCENE I.—A Forest.

Enter DE VITRY and four Soldiers.

DE VIT. No war, no money, no master! banished the court, not trusted in the
city, whipt out of the country,—in what a triangle runs our misery! Let
hear which of you has the best voice to beg in, for other hopes or fortunes I
see you have not. Be not nice; nature provided you with tones for the purpose;
the people's charity was your heritage, and I would see which of you deserves
his birthright.
All. We understand you not, captain.
De Vit. You see this cardecu, the last, and the only quintessence of
fifty crowns, distilled in the limbeck of your guardage; of which happy piece
thou shalt be treasurer. [Gives it to 1st Soldier.] Now, he that can
persuade him to part with 't, enjoys it, possesses it, and with it me and my
future countenance.
1st Sold. If they want art to persuade it, I'll keep it myself.
De Vit. So you be not a partial judge in your own cause, you shall.
All. A match!
2nd Sold. I'll begin to you. Brave sir, be proud to make him happy by
your liberality, whose tongue vouchsafes now to petition, was never heard
less than to command. I am a soldier by profession, a gentleman by birth, and a
officer by place; whose poverty blushes to be the cause that so high a virtue
should descend to the pity of your charity.
1st Sold. In any case keep your high style: it is not charity to
any man, much less a virtue of your eminence; wherefore, preserve your worth,
and I'll preserve my money.
3rd Sold. You persuade; you are shallow: give way to
merit.—Ah, by
the bread of God, man, thou hast a bonny countenance and a blithe, promising
mickle good to a sicker womb that has trod a long and a sore
ground to meet with
friends, that will owe much to thy reverence when they shall hear to thy
courtesy to their wandering countryman.
1st Sold. You that will use your friends so hardly to bring them in
debt, sir, will deserve worse of a stranger; wherefore, pead on, pead on, I say
4th Sold. It is the Welsh must do't, I see.—Comrade, man of
urship, St. Tavy be her patron, the gods of the mountains keep her cow and her
cupboard; may she never want the green of the leek nor the fat of the onion,
she part with her bounties to him that is a great deal away from her cousins an
has two big suits in law to recover her heritage!
1st Sold. Pardon me, sir; I will have nothing to do with your suits;
comes within the statute of maintenance. Home to your cousins, and sow garlic
and hempseed; and one will stop your hunger, the other end your suits.
[Gammawash, comrade, gammawash!
4th Sold. 'Foot, he'll hoard all for himself.
De Vit. Yes, let him. Now comes my turn; I'll see if he can answer
Save you, sir! they say you have that I want, money.
1st Sold. And that you are like to want, for aught I perceive yet.
De Vit. Stand, deliver!
1st Sold. 'Foot, what mean you? You will not rob the exchequer?
De Vit. Do you prate?
1st Sold. Hold, hold! here, captain!
[Gives the cardecu.
2nd Sold. Why, I could have done this before you.
3rd Sold. And I.
4th Sold. And I.
De Vit. You have done this! "Brave man, be proud to make him happy!"
"By the bread of God, man, thou hast a bonny countenance!" "Comrade, man of
urship, St. Tavy be her patron!" Out upon you, you uncurried colts! walking
cans, that have no souls in you, but a little rosin to keep your ribs sweet
hold in liquor!
All. Why, what would you have us to do, captain?
De Vit. Beg, beg, and keep constables waking, wear out stocks and
whipcord, maunder for buttermilk, die of the jaundice, yet have the cure about
you, lice, large lice, begot of your own dust and the heat of the brick-kilns!
May you starve, and fear of the gallows (which is a gentle consumption to it)
only prevent it! or may you fall upon your fear, and be hanged for selling
purses to keep you from famine, whose monies my valour empties, and be cast
without other evidence! Here is my fort, my castle of defence: who comes by
shall pay me toll; the first purse is your mittimus, slaves.
2nd Sold. The purse! 'foot, we'll share in the money, captain, if any
come within a furlong of our fingers.
4th Sold. Did you doubt but we could steal as well as yourself? did
I speak Welsh?
3rd Sold. We are thieves from our cradles, and will die so.
De Vit. Then you will not beg again?
All. Yes, as you did: "Stand and deliver!"
2nd Sold. Hark! here comes handsel: 'tis a trade quickly set up,
and as
soon cast down.
De Vit. Have goodness in your minds, varlets, and to 't like men! He
that has more money than we, cannot be our friend, and I hope there is no law
for spoiling the enemy.
3rd Sold. You need not instruct us farther; your example pleads
De Vit. Disperse yourselves; and, as their company is, fall on!
2nd Sold. Come there a band of 'em, I'll charge single.
[Exeunt Soldiers.


Prot. 'Tis wonderful dark. I have lost my man, and dare not call for
him, lest I should have more followers than I would pay wages to. What throes
I in, in this travel! these be honourable adventures! Had I that honest blood i
my veins again, queen, that your feats and these frights have drained from me,
honour should pull hard ere it drew me into these brakes.
De Vit. Who goes there?
Prot. Heigh-ho! here's a pang of preferment.
De Vit. 'Heart, who goes there?
Prot. He that has no heart to your acquaintance. What shall I do with
my jewels and my letters? My codpiece, that's too loose; good, my boots.
[Aside, and puts jewels and letters into his boots.]—Who is 't that
spoke to me? here's a friend.
De Vit. We shall find that presently. Stand, as you love your safety,
Prot. That unlucky word of standing has brought me to all this.
[Aside.]—Hold, or I shall never stand you.

Re-enter Soldiers.

De Vit. I should know that voice. Deliver!
Prot. All that I have is at your service, gentlemen; and much good
it do you!
De Vit. Zowns, down with him!—Do you prate?
Prot. Keep your first word, as you are gentlemen, and let me stand!
Alas, what do you mean?
2nd Sold. To tie you to us, sir, bind you in the knot of friendship.
[They bind PROTALDY.
Prot. Alas, sir, all the physic in Europe cannot bind me.
De Vit. You should have jewels about you, stones, precious stones.
1st Sold. Captain, away! there's company within hearing; if you stay
longer, we are surprised.
De Vit. Let the devil come, I'll pillage this frigate a little better
2nd Sold. 'Foot, we are lost! they are upon us.
De Vit. Ha! upon us?—Make the least noise, 'tis thy parting
3rd Sold. Which way shall we make, sir?
De Vit. Every man his own: do you hear? only bind me before you
go, and
when the company's past, make to this place again. This carvel should have
better lading in him. You are slow; why do you not tie harder?
[They bind DE VITRY.
1st Sold. You are sure enough, I warrant you, sir.
De Vit. Darkness befriend you! away! [Exeunt Soldiers.
Prot. What tyrants have I met with! they leave me alone in the dark,
yet would not have me cry. I shall grow wondrous melancholy, if I stay long
without company. I was wont to get a nap with saying my prayers; I'll see if
they will work upon me now: but then if I should talk in my sleep, and they hea
me, they would make a recorder of my windpipe,—slit my throat. Heaven be
praised! I hear some noise; it may be new purchase, and then I shall have
De Vit. They are gone past hearing: now to task, De Vitry!
[Aside.]—Help, help, as you are men, help! some charitable hand
a poor distressed miserable wretch! Thieves, wicked thieves, have robbed me,
bound me.
Prot. 'Foot, would they had gagged you too! your noise will
betray us,
and fetch them again.
De Vit. What blessed tongue spake to me? where, where are you, sir?
Prot. A plague of your bawling throat! we are well enough, if you have
the grace to be thankful for 't. Do but snore to me, and 'tis as much as I
desire, to pass away time with till morning; then talk as loud as you please,
sir: I am bound not to stir; wherefore, lie still and snore, I say.
De Vit. Then you have met with thieves, too, I see.
Prot. And desire to meet with no more of them.
De Vit. Alas, what can we suffer more? they are far enough by this
time; have they not all, all that we have, sir?
Prot. No, by my faith, have they not, sir. I gave them one trick to
boot for their learning: my boots, sir, my boots! I have saved my stock and my
jewels in them, and therefore desire to hear no more of them.
De Vit. Now, blessing on your wit, sir! what a dull slave was I,
dreamed not of your conveyance! Help to unbind me, sir, and I'll undo you; my
life for yours, no worse thief than myself meets you again this night!
Prot. Reach me thy hands.
De Vit. Here, sir, here [PROTALDY unbinds DE VITRY'S hands].
could beat my brains out, that could not think of boots, boots, sir, widetopt
boots; I shall love them the better whilst I live. But are you sure your
are here, sir?
Prot. Sure, sayst thou? ha, ha, ha!
De Vit. So ho, illo ho!
Soldiers [within]. Here, captain, here!
Prot. 'Foot, what do you mean, sir?

Re-enter Soldiers.

De Vit. A trick to boot, say you? [Takes out jewels from
boots.] Here, you dull slaves, purchase, purchase! the soul of the rock,
diamonds, sparkling diamonds!
Prot. I am betrayed, lost, past recovery lost! [Aside.]
As you are men—
De Vit. Nay, rook, since you will be prating, we'll share
your carrion
with you. Have you any other conveyance now, sir?
1st Sold. [Taking out letters from PROTALDY'S boots.] 'Foot,
here are letters, epistles, familiar epistles: we'll see what treasure is in
them; they are sealed sure.
Prot. Gentlemen, as you are gentlemen, spare my letters, and take all
willingly, all! I'll give you a release, a general release, and meet you here
to-morrow with as much more.
De Vit. Nay, since you have your tricks and your conveyances, we will
not leave a wrinkle of you unsearched.
Prot. Hark! there comes company; you will be betrayed. As you love
safeties, beat out my brains; I shall betray you else.
De Vit. [Reading the letters.] Treason, unheard-of treason!
monstrous, monstrous villanies!
Prot. I confess myself a traitor; show yourselves good subjects, and
hang me up for 't.
1st Sold. If it be treason, the discovery will get our pardon,
De Vit. Would we were all lost, hanged,
Quartered, to save this one, one innocent prince!
Thierry's poisoned, by his mother poisoned,
The mistress to this stallion;
Who, by that poison, ne'er shall sleep again!
2nd Sold. 'Foot, let us mince him by piece-meal till he eat
himself up.
3rd Sold. Let us dig out his heart with needles, and half broil him
like a muscle.
Prot. Such another, and I prevent you; my blood's settled already.
De Vit. Here is that shall remove it! Toad, viper!
Drag him unto Martell!—
Unnatural parricide! cruel, bloody woman!
Soldiers. On, you dog-fish, leech, caterpillar!
De Vit. A longer sight of him will make my rage
Turn pity, and with his sudden end prevent
Revenge and torture!—Wicked, wicked Brunhalt!

SCENE II.—An Apartment in the Palace of THIERRY.

Enter BAWDBER and three Courtiers.

1st Cour. Not sleep at all? no means?
2nd Cour. No art can do it?
Baw. I will assure you, he can sleep no more
Than a hooded hawk; a sentinel to him,
Or one of the city-constables, are tops.
3rd Cour. How came he so?
Baw. They are too wise that dare know:
Something's amiss; Heaven help all!
1st Cour. What cures has he?
Baw. Armies of those we call physicians;
Some with clysters, some with lettice-caps,
Some posset-drinks, some pills; twenty consulting here
About a drench, as many here to blood him.
Then comes a don of Spain, and he prescribes
More cooling opium than would kill a Turk,
Or quench a whore i' the dog-days; after him,
A wise Italian, and he cries, "Tie unto him
A woman of fourscore, whose bones are marble,
Whose blood snow water, not so much heat about her
As may conceive a prayer!" after him,
An English doctor with a bunch of pot-herbs,
And he cries out, "Endive and succory,
With a few mallow-roots and butter-milk!"
And talks of oil made of a churchman's charity.
Yet still he wakes.
1st Cour. But your good honour has a prayer in store,
If all should fail?
Baw. I could have prayed and handsomely, but age
And an ill memory_____
3rd Cour. Has spoiled your primmer.
Baw. Yet if there be a man of faith i' the court,
And can pray for a pension_____

THIERRY is brought in on a couch, with Doctors and Attendants.

2nd Cour. Here's the King, sir;
And those that will pray without pay.
Baw. Then pray for me too.
1st Doc. How does your grace now feel yourself?
Thi. What's that?
1st Doc. Nothing at all, sir, but your fancy.
Thi. Tell me.
Can ever these eyes more, shut up in slumbers,
Assure my soul there is sleep? is there night
And rest for human labours? do not you
And all the world, as I do, out-stare Time,
And live, like funeral lamps, never extinguished?
Is there a grave? (and do not flatter me,
Nor fear to tell me truth,) and in that grave
Is there a hope I shall sleep? can I die?
Are not my miseries immortal? Oh,
The happiness of him that drinks his water,
After his weary day, and sleeps for ever!
Why do you crucify me thus with faces,
And gaping strangely upon one another!
When shall I rest?
2nd Doc. Oh, sir, be patient!
Thi. Am I not patient? have I not endured
More than a mangy dog, among your doses?
Am I not now your patient? Ye can make
Unwholesome fools sleep for a garded footcloth,
Whores for a hot sin-offering; yet I must crave,
That feed ye and protect ye and proclaim ye.
Because my power is far above your searching,
Are my diseases so? can ye cure none
But those of equal ignorance? dare ye kill me?
1st Doc. We do beseech your grace be more reclaimed!
This talk doth but distemper you.
Thi. Well, I will die,
In spite of all your potions. One of you sleep;
Lie down and sleep here, that I may behold
What blessèd rest it is my eyes are robbed of.
[An Attendant lies down.
See, he can sleep, sleep anywhere, sleep now,
When he that wakes for him can never slumber!
Is't not a dainty ease?
2nd Doc. Your grace shall feel it.
Thi. Oh, never I, never! The eyes of Heaven
See but their certain motions, and then sleep:
The rages of the ocean have their slumbers
And quiet silver calms; each violence
Crowns in his end a peace; but my fixed fires
Shall never, never set!—Who's that?


Mart. No, woman,
Mother of mischief, no! the day shall die first,
And all good things live in a worse than thou art,
Ere thou shalt sleep! Dost thou see him?
Brun. Yes, and curse him;
And all that love him, fool, and all live by him.
Mart. Why art thou such a monster?
Brun. Why art thou
So tame a knave to ask me?
Mart. Hope of hell,
By this fair holy light, and all his wrongs,
Which are above thy years, almost thy vices,
Thou shalt not rest, not feel more what is pity,
Know nothing necessary, meet no society
But what shall curse and crucify thee, feel in thyself
Nothing but what thou art, bane and bad conscience,
Till this man rest; but for whose reverence,
Because thou art his mother, I would say,
Whore, this shall be! Do you nod? I'll waken you
With my sword's point.
Brun. I wish no more of Heaven,
Nor hope no more, but a sufficient anger
To torture thee!
Mart. See, she that makes you see, sir!
And, to your misery, still see your mother,
The mother of your woes, sir, of your waking,
The mother of your people's cries and curses,
Your murdering mother, your malicious mother!
Thi. Physicians, half my state to sleep an hour now!—
Is it so, mother?
Brun. Yes, it is so, son;
And, were it yet again to do, it should be.
Mart. She nods again; swinge her!
Thi. But, mother,
(For yet I love that reverence, and to death
Dare not forget you have been so) was this,
This endless misery, this cureless malice,
This snatching from me all my youth together,
All that you made me for, and happy mothers
Crowned with eternal time are proud to finish.
Done by your will?
Brun. It was, and by that will_____
Thi. Oh, mother, do not lose your name! forget not
The touch of nature in you, tenderness!
'Tis all the soul of woman, all the sweetness:
Forget not, I beseech you, what are children,
Nor how you have groaned for them; to what love
They are born inheritors, with what care kept;
And, as they rise to ripeness, still remember
How they imp out your age! and when time calls you,
That as an autumn-flower you fall, forget not
How round about your hearse they hang like pennons!
Brun. Holy fool,
Whose patience to prevent my wrongs has killed thee,
Preach not to me of punishments or fears,
Or what I ought to be; but what I am,
A woman in her liberal will defeated,
In all her greatness crossed, in pleasure blasted!
My angers have been laughed at, my ends slighted,
And all those glories that had crowned my fortunes,
Suffered by blasted virtue to be scattered:
I am the fruitful mother of these angers,
And what such have done read, and know thy ruin!
Thi. Heaven forgive you!
Mart. She tells you true; for millions of her mischiefs
Are now apparent. Protaldy we have taken,
An equal agent with her, to whose care,
After the damned defeat on you, she trusted
The bringing-in of Leonor the bastard,

Enter a Gentleman.

Son to your murdered brother: her physician
By this time is attached too, that damned devil!
Gent. 'Tis like he will be so; for ere we came,
Fearing an equal justice for his mischiefs,
He drenched himself.
Brun. He did like one of mine then !
Thi. Must I still see these miseries? no night
To hide me from their horrors? That Protaldy
See justice fall upon!
Brun. Now I could sleep too.
Mart. I'll give you yet more poppy. Bring the lady,
And Heaven in her embraces give him quiet!

An Attendant brings in ORDELLA veiled.

Madam, unveil yourself.
Ord. [Unveiling herself.] I do forgive you;
And though you sought my blood, yet I'll pray for you.
Brun. Art thou alive?
Mart. Now could you sleep?
Brun. For ever.
Mart. Go carry her without wink of sleep or quiet
Where her strong knave Protaldy's broke o' the wheel,
And let his cries and roars be music to her!
I mean to waken her.
Thi. Do her no wrong!
Mart. No, right, as you love justice!
Brun. I will think;
And if there be new curses in old nature,
I have a soul dare send them!
Mart. Keep her waking?
[Exit BRUNHALT with Gentleman and Guards.
Thi. What's that appears so sweetly? there's that face_____
Mart. Be moderate, lady!
Thi. That angel's face_____
Mart. Go nearer.
Thi. Martell, I cannot last long. See, the soul
(I see it perfectly) of my Ordella,
The heavenly figure of her sweetness, there!
Forgive me, gods! It comes!—Divinest substance!—
Kneel, kneel, kneel, every one!—Saint of thy sex,
If it be for my cruelty thou comest—
Do ye see her, ho?
Mart. Yes, sir; and you shall know her.
Thi. Down, down again!—to be revenged for blood,
Sweet spirit, I am ready.—She smiles on me:
Oh, blessèd sign of peace!
Mart. Go nearer, lady.
Ord. I come to make you happy.
Thi. Hear you that, sirs?
She comes to crown my soul. Away, get sacrifice!
Whilst I with holy honours_____
Mart. She's alive, sir.
Thi. In everlasting life; I know it, friend:
Oh, happy, happy soul!
Ord. Alas, I live, sir!
A mortal woman still.
Thi. Can spirits weep too?
Mart. She is no spirit, sir; pray, kiss her.—Lady,
Be very gentle to him!
Thi. Stay!—She is warm;
And by my life, the same lips!—Tell me, brightness,
Are you the same Ordella still?
Mart. The same, sir,
Whom Heavens and my good angel stayed from ruin.
Thi. Kiss me again!
Ord. The same still, still your servant.
Thi. 'Tis she! I know her now, Martell.—Sit down, sweet.
Oh, blest and happiest woman!—A dead slumber
Begins to creep upon me.—Oh, my jewel!
Ord. Oh, sleep, my lord!
Thi. My joys are too much for me!

Re-enter Gentleman, with MEMBERGE.

Gent. Brunhalt, impatient of her constraint to see
Protaldy tortured, has choked herself.
Mart. No more:
Her sins go with her!
Thi. Love, I must die; I faint:
Close up my glasses!
1st Doc. The queen faints too, and deadly.
Thi. One dying kiss!
Ord. My last, sir, and my dearest:
And now close my eyes too!
Thi. Thou perfect woman!—
Martell, the kingdom's yours: take Memberge to you,
And keep my line alive.—Nay, weep not, lady.—
Take me! I go. [Dies.
Ord. Take me too! Farewell, honour! [Dies.
2nd Doc. They are gone for ever.
Mart. The peace of happy souls go after them!
Bear them unto their last beds, whilst I study
A tomb to speak their loves whilst old Time lasteth.
I am your king in sorrows.
All. We your subjects!
Mart. De Vitry, for your services be near us.
Whip out these instruments of this mad mother
From court and all good people; and, because
She was born noble, let that title find her
A private grave, but neither tongue nor honour.
And now lead on. They that shall read this story
Shall find that virtue lives in good, not glory. [Exeunt.


OUR poet knows you will be just, but we
Appeal to mercy; he desires that ye
Would not distaste his Muse, because of late
Transplanted, which would grow here, if no fate
Have an unlucky bode. Opinion
Comes hither but on crutches yet, the sun
Hath lent no beam to warm us; if this play
Proceed more fortunate, we'll crown the day
And love that brought you hither. 'Tis in you
To make a little sprig of laurel grow
And spread into a grove, where you may sit
And hear soft stories, when by blasting it
You gain no honour, though our ruins lie
To tell the spoils of your offended eye.
If not for what we are, (for, alas, here
No Roscius moves to charm your eyes or ear!)
Yet as you hope hereafter to see plays,
Encourage us, and give our poet bays.

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