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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE FATAL DOWRY, by PHILIP MASSINGER Poet's Biography
First Line: Sir, I may move the court
Last Line: Be or set free, or suffer punishment. [exeunt.
First Line: Sir, I may move the court
Last Line: Be or set free, or suffer punishment. [exeunt.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
ROCHFORT, Ex-Premier President of the Parliament of Dijon.
CHARALOIS, a noble Gentleman, Son of the deceased Marshal.
ROMONT, a brave Officer, friend to CHARALOIS.
NOVALL, senior, Premier President of the Parliament of Dijon.
NOVALL, junior, his Son, in love with BEAUMELLE.
DU CROY, President of the Parliament of Dijon.
CHARMI, an Advocate.
BEAUMONT, Secretary to ROCHFORT.
PONTALIER, Friend of NOVALL, junior.
MALOTIN, Friend of NOVALL, junior.
LILADAM, a Parasite, dependent on NOVALL, junior.
AYMER, a Singer and Keeper of a Music-house, also dependent on NOVALL, junior.
Advocates.
Three Creditors.
A Priest.
Tailor.
Barber.
Perfumer.
Page.
Presidents, Captains, Soldiers, Mourners, Gaolers, Bailiffs, Servants.
BEAUMELLE, Daughter of ROCHFORT.
FLORIMEL, Servant to BEAUMELLE;
BELLAPERT, Servant to BEAUMELLE; and secret agent of NOVALL, jun.
SCENE—DIJON.
ACT THE FIRST.
SCENE I.— A Street before the Court of Justice.
Enter CHARALOIS with a paper, ROMONT, and CHARMI.
CHARMI. Sir, I may move the court to serve your will;
But therein shall both wrong you and myself.
Rom. Why think you so, sir?
Charmi. 'Cause I am familiar
With what will be their answer: they will say,
'Tis against law; and argue me of ignorance,
For offering them the motion.
Rom. You know not, sir,
How, in this cause, they may dispense with law;
And therefore frame not you their answer for them,
But do your parts.
Charmi. I love the cause so well,
As I could run the hazard of a check for't.
Rom. From whom?
Charmi. Some of the bench, that watch to give it,
More than to do the office that they sit for:
But give me, sir, my fee.
Rom. Now you are noble. [Gives him his purse.
Charmi. I shall deserve this better yet, in giving
My lord some counsel, if he please to hear it,
Than I shall do with pleading.
Rom. What may it be, sir?
Charmi. That it would please his lordship, as the presidents
And counsellors of court come by, to stand
Here, and but show himself, and to some one
Or two, make his request:—there is a minute,
When a man's presence speaks in his own cause,
More than the tongues of twenty advocates.
Rom. I have urged that.
Enter ROCHFORT and DU CROY.
Charmi. Their lordships here are coming,
I must go get me a place. You'll find me in court,
And at your service. [Exit.
Rom. Now, put on your spirits.
Du Croy. The ease that you prepare yourself, my lord,
In giving up the place you hold in court,
Will prove, I fear, a trouble in the state,
And that no slight one.
Roch. Pray you, sir, no more.
Rom. Now, sir, lose not this offered means; their looks,
Fixed on you with a pitying earnestness,
Invite you to demand their furtherance
To your good purpose:—this is such a dulness,
So foolish and untimely, as_____
Du Croy. You know him?
Roch. I do; and much lament the sudden fall
Of his brave house. It is young Charalois,
Son to the marshal, from whom he inherits
His fame and virtues only.
Rom. Ha! they name you.
Du Croy. His father died in prison two days since.
Roch. Yes, to the shame of this ungrateful state;
That such a master in the art of war,
So noble, and so highly meriting
From this forgetful country, should, for want
Of means to satisfy his creditors
The sums he took up for the general good,
Meet with an end so infamous.
Rom. Dare you ever
Hope for like opportunity?
Du Croy. My good lord!
[They salute him as they pass by.
Roch. My wish bring comfort to you!
Du Croy. The time calls us.
Roch. Good morrow, colonel!
[Exeunt ROCHFORT and DU CROV.
Rom. This obstinate spleen,
You think, becomes your sorrow, and sorts well
With your black suits; but, grant me wit or judgment,
And, by the freedom of an honest man,
And a true friend to boot, I swear 'tis shameful.
And therefore flatter not yourself with hope,
Your sable habit, with the hat and cloak,
No, though the ribands help, have power to work them
To what you would: for those that had no eyes
To see the great acts of your father will not,
From any fashion sorrow can put on,
Be taught to know their duties.
Charal. If they will not,
They are too old to learn, and I too young
To give them counsel; since, if they partake
The understanding and the hearts of men,
They will prevent my words and tears: if not,
What can persuasion, though made eloquent
With grief, work upon such as have changed natures
With the most savage beast? Blest, blest be ever
The memory of that happy age, when justice
Had no guards to keep off wronged innocence
From flying to her succours, and, in that,
Assurance of redress! where now, Romont,
The damned with more ease may ascend from hell,
Than we arrive at her. One Cerberus there
Forbids the passage, in our courts a thousand,
As loud and fertile-headed; and the client
That wants the sops to fill their ravenous throats
Must hope for no accèss: why should I, then,
Attempt impossibilities; you, friend, being
Too well acquainted with my dearth of means
To make my entrance that way?
Rom. Would I were not!
But, sir, you have a cause, a cause so just,
Of such necessity, not to be deferred,
As would compel a maid, whose foot was never
Set o'er her father's threshold, nor within
The house where she was born ever spake word
Which was not ushered with pure virgin blushes,
To drown the tempest of a pleader's tongue,
And force corruption to give back the hire
It took against her. Let examples move you.
You see men great in birth, esteem, and fortune,
Rather than lose a scruple of their right,
Fawn basely upon such, whose gowns put off,
They would disdain for servants.
Charal. And to these
Can I become a suitor?
Rom. Without loss,
Would you consider that, to gain their favours,
Our chastest dames put off their modesties,
Soldiers forget their honours, usurers
Make sacrifice of gold, poets of wit,
And men religious part with fame and goodness.
Be therefore won to use the means that may
Advance your pious ends.
Charal. You shall o'ercome.
Rom. And you receive the glory. Pray you now practise
Charal. 'Tis well.
Enter NOVALL, senior, Advocates, LILADAM, and three Creditors.
[Tenders his petition.] Not look on me!
Rom. You must have patience—
Offer it again.
Charal. And be again contemned!
Nov. sen. I know what's to be done.
1st Cred. And, that your lordship
Will please to do your knowledge, we offer first
Our thankful hearts here, as a bounteous earnest
To what we will add.
Nov. sen. One word more of this,
I am your enemy. Am I a man
Your bribes can work on? ha?
Lilad. [Aside to Creditors,] Friends, you mistake
The way to win my lord; he must not hear this,
But I, as one in favour, in his sight
May hearken to you for my profit.—Sir!
I pray hear them.
Nov. sen. 'Tis well.
Lilad. Observe him now.
Nov. sen. Your cause being good, and your proceedings so,
Without corruption I am your friend;
Speak your desires.
2nd Cred. Oh, they are charitable;
The marshal stood engaged unto us three
Two hundred thousand crowns, which, by his death,
We are defeated of: for which great loss
We aim at nothing but his rotten flesh;
Nor is that cruelty.
1st Cred. I have a son
That talks of nothing but of guns and armours,
And swears he'll be a soldier; 'tis an humour
I would divert him from; and I am told
That if I minister to him, in his drink,
Powder made of this bankrupt marshal's bones,
Provided that the carcass rot above ground,
'Twill cure his foolish frenzy.
Nov. sen. You show in it
A father's care. I have a son myself,
A fashionable gentleman, and a peaceful;
And, but I am assured he's not so given,
He should take of it too.—Sir, what are you?
Charal. A gentleman.
Nov. sen. So are many that rake dunghills.
If you have any suit, move it in court:
I take no papers in corners. [Exit.
Rom. Yes,
As the matter may be carried—and hereby
To manage the conveyance_____Follow him.
Lilad. You are rude: I say he shall not pass.
[Exeunt CHARALOIS and Advocates.
Rom. You say so!
On what assurance?
For the well cutting of his lordship's corns,
Picking his toes, or any office else
Nearer to baseness!
Lilad. Look upon me better;
Are these the ensigns of so coarse a fellow?
Be well advised.
Rom. Out, rogue! do not I know
These glorious weeds spring from the sordid dunghill
Of thy officious baseness? wert thou worthy
Of any thing from me, but my contempt,
I would do more than this,—[Kicks him.]—more, you court-spider!
Lilad. But that this man is lawless, he should find
That I am valiant.
1st Cred. If your ears are fast,
'Tis nothing. What's blow or two? as much.
2nd Cred. These chastisements as useful are as frequent
To such as would grow rich.
Rom. Are they so, rascals?
I will befriend you, then. [Kicks them.
1st Cred. Bear witnes, sirs!
Lilad. Truth, I have borne my part already, friends:
In the court you shall have more. [Exit.
Rom. I know you for
The worst of spirits, that strive to rob the tombs
Of what is their inheritance, the dead:
For usurers, bred by a riotous peace,
That hold the charter of your wealth and freedom
By being knaves and cuckolds; that ne'er prayed,
But when you fear the rich heirs will grow wise,
To keep their lands out of your parchment toils,
And then the devil your father's called upon,
To invent some ways of luxury ne'er thought on.
Be gone, and quickly, or I'll leave no room
Upon your forehead for your horns to sprout on—
Without a murmur, or I will undo you;
For I will beat you honest.
1st Cred. Thrift forbid!
We will bear this, rather than hazard that
[Exeunt Creditors.
Re-enter CHARALOIS.
Rom. I am somewhat eased in this yet.
Charal. Only friend,
To what vain purpose do I make my sorrow
Wait on the triumph of their cruelty?
Or teach their pride, from my humility,
To think it has o'ercome? They are determined
What they will do; and it may well become me,
To rob them of the glory they expect
From my submiss entreaties.
Rom. Think not so, sir:
The difficulties that you encounter with
Will crown the undertaking—Heaven! you weep;
And I could do so too, but that I know
There's more expected from the son and friend
Of him whose fatal loss now shakes our natures,
Than sighs or tears, in which a village nurse,
Or cunning strumpet when her knave is hanged,
May overcome us. We are men, young lord,
Let us not do like women. To the court,
And there speak like your birth: wake sleeping justice,
Or dare the axe. This is a way will sort
With what you are: I call you not to that
I will shrink from myself; I will deserve
Your thanks, or suffer with you—O how bravely
That sudden fire of anger shows in you!
Give fuel to it. Since you are on a shelf
Of extreme danger, suffer like yourself. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.— The Court of Justice.
Enter ROCHFORT, NOVALL, senior, Presidents, CHARMI, DU CROY, BEAUMONT,
Advocates, three Creditors, and Officers.
Du Croy. Your lordships seated, may this meeting prove
Prosperous to us, and to the general good
Of Burgundy!
Nov. sen. Speak to the point.
Du Croy. Which is
With honour to dispose the place and power
Of premier president, which this reverend man,
Grave Rochfort, whom for honour's sake I name,
Is purposed to resign; a place, my lords,
In which he hath with such integrity
Performed the first and best parts of a judge
That, as his life transcends all fair examples
Of such as were before him in Dijon,
So it remains to those that shall succeed him,
A precedent they may imitate, but not equal.
Roch. I may not sit to hear this.
Du Croy. Let the love
And thankfulness we are bound to pay to goodness,
In this o'ercome your modesty.
Roch. My thanks
For this great favour shall prevent your trouble.
The honourable trust that was imposed
Upon my weakness, since you witness for me
It was not ill discharged, I will not mention;
Nor now, if age had not deprived me of
The little strength I had to govern well
The province that I undertook, forsake it.
Nov. sen. That we could lend you of our years!
Du Croy. Or strength!
Nov. sen. Or, as you are, persuade you to continue
The noble exercise of your knowing judgment!
Roch. That may not be; nor can your lordships' goodness,
Since your employments have conferred upon me
Sufficient wealth, deny the use of it:
And, though old age, when one foot's in the grave,
In many, when all humours else are spent,
Feeds no affection in them but desire
To add height to the mountain of their riches,
In me it is not so. I rest content
With the honours and estate I now possess:
And, that I may have liberty to use
What Heaven, still blessing my poor industry,
Hath made me master of, I pray the court
To ease me of my burthen, that I may
Employ the small remainder of my life
In living well, and learning how to die so.
Enter ROMONT and CHARALOIS.
Rom. See, sir, our advocate.
Du Croy. The court entreats
Your lordship will be pleased to name the man
Which you would have your successor, and, in me,
All promise to confirm it.
Roch. I embrace it
As an assurance of their favour to me,
And name my Lord Novall.
Du Croy. The court allows it.
Roch. But there are suitors wait here, and their causes
May be of more necessity to be heard;
I therefore wish that mine may be deferred,
And theirs have hearing.
Du Croy. [To Nov. sen.] If your lordship please
To take the place, we will proceed.
Charmi. The cause
We come to offer to your lordships' censure
Is in itself so noble that it needs not
Or rhetoric in me that plead, or favour
From your grave lordships, to determine of it;
Since to the praise of your impartial justice
(Which guilty, nay, condemned men dare not scandal),
It will erect a trophy of your mercy,
With, married to that justice_____
Nov. sen. Speak to the cause.
Charmi. I will, my lord. To say, the late dead marshal,
The father of this young lord here, my client,
Hath done his country great and faithful service,
Might task me of impertinence, to repeat
What your grave lordships cannot but remember.
He, in his life, became indebted to
These thrifty men, (I will not wrong their credits
By giving them the attributes they now merit,)
And failing, by the fortune of the wars,
Of means to free himself from his engagements,
He was arrested, and, for want of bail,
Imprisoned at their suit; and not long after,
With loss of liberty, ended his life.
And, though it be a maxim in our laws,
All suits die with the person, these men's malice
In death finds matter for their hate to work on;
Denying him the decent rites of burial,
Which the sworn enemies of the Christian faith
Grant freely to their slaves. May it therefore please
Your lordships so to fashion your decree,
That what their cruelty doth forbid your pity
May give allowance to.
Nov. sen. How long have you, sir,
Practised in court?
Charmi. Some twenty years, my lord.
Nov. sen. By your gross ignorance, it should appear,
Not twenty days.
Charmi. I hope I have given no cause
In this, my lord_____
Nov. sen. How dare you move the court
To the dispensing with an act, confirmed
By parliament, to the terror of all bankrupts?
Go home; and with more care peruse the statutes:
Or the next motion, savouring of this boldness,
May force you, sir, to leap, against your will,
Over the place you plead at.
Charmi. I foresaw this.
Rom. Why, does your lordship think the moving of
A cause more honest than this court had ever
The honour to determine, can deserve
A check like this?
Nov. sen. Strange boldness!
Rom. 'Tis fit freedom:
Or do you conclude an advocate cannot hold
His credit with the judge, unless he study
His face more than the cause for which he pleads?
Charmi. Forbear.
Rom. Or cannot you, that have the power
To qualify the rigour of the laws
When you are pleasèd, take a little from
The strictness of your sour decrees, enacted
In favour of the greedy creditors,
Against the o'erthrown debtor?
Nov. sen. Sirrah! you that prate
Thus saucily, what are you?
Rom. Why, I'll tell you,
Thou purple-coloured man! I am one to whom
Thou ow'st the means thou hast of sittting there,
A corrupt elder.
Charmi. Forbear.
Rom. The nose thou wear'st is my gift; and those eyes,
That meet no object so base as their master,
Had been long since torn from that guilty head,
And thou thyself slave to some needy Swiss,
Had I not worn a sword, and used it better
Than, in thy prayers, thou e'er didst thy tongue.
Nov. sen. Shall such an insolence pass unpunished!
Charmi. Hear me.
Rom. Yet I, that, in my service done my country,
Disdain to be put in the scale with thee,
Confess myself unworthy to be valued
With the least part, nay, hair of the dead marshal;
Of whose so many glorious undertakings,
Make choice of any one, and that the meanest,
Performed against the subtle fox of France,
The politic Louis, or the more desperate Swiss,
And 'twill outweigh all the good purposes,
Though put in act, that ever gownman practised,
Nov. sen. Away with him to prison.
Rom. If that curses,
Urged justly, and breathed forth so, ever fell
On those that did deserve them, let not mine
Be spent in vain now, that thou from this instant
Mayst, in thy fear that they will fall upon thee,
Be sensible of the plagues they shall bring with them;
And for denying of a little earth
To cover what remains of our great soldier,
May all your wives prove whores, your factors thieves,
And, while you live, your riotous heirs undo you!
And thou, the patron of their cruelty,
Of all thy lordships live not to be owner
Of so much dung as will conceal a dog,
Or, what is worse, thyself in! And thy years,
To th' end thou mayst be wretched, I wish many;
And, as thou hast denied the dead a grave,
May misery in thy life make thee desire one,
Which men and all the elements keep from thee!—
[To CHARALOIS.] I have begun well; imitate, exceed.
Roch. Good counsel, were it a praiseworthy deed.
[Exeunt Officers with ROMONT.]
Du Croy. Remember what we are.
Charal. Thus low my duty
Answers your lordship's counsel. I will use,
In the few words with which I am to trouble
Your lordship's ears, the temper that you wish me;
Not that I fear to speak my thoughts as loud,
And with a liberty beyond Romont;
But that I know, for me, that am made up
Of all that's wretched, so to haste my end
Would seem to most rather a willingness
To quit the burthen of a hopeless life
Than scorn of death, or duty to the dead.
I, therefore, bring the tribute of my praise
To your severity, and commend the justice
That will not, for the many services
That any man bath done the commonwealth,
Wink at his least of ills. What though my father
Writ man before he was so, and confirmed it,
By numbering that day no part of his life
In which he did not service to his country;
Was he to be free, therefore, from the laws
And ceremonious form in your decrees?
Or else, because he did as much as man,
In those three memorable overthrows
At Granson, Morat, Nancy, where his master,
The warlike Charalois, (with whose misfortunes
I bear his name,) lost treasure, men, and life,
To be excused from payment of those sums
Which (his own patrimony spent) his zeal
To serve his country forced him to take up?
Nov. sen. The precedent were ill.
Charal. And yet. my lord, this much,
I know, you'll grant; after those great defeatures,
Which in their dreadful ruins buried quick
Re-enter Officers.
Courage and hope in all men but himself,
He forced the foe, in his height of conquest,
To yield unto an honourable peace;
And in it saved an hundred thousand lives,
To end his own, that was sure proof against
The scalding summer's heat and winter's frost,
Ill airs, the cannon, and the enemy's sword,
In a most loathsome prison.
Du Croy. 'Twas his fault
To be so prodigal.
Nov. sen. He had from the state
Sufficient entertainment for the army.
Charal. Sufficient, my lords! You sit at home,
And, though your fees are boundless at the bar,
Are thrifty in the charges of the war_____
But your wills be obeyed. To these I turn,
To these soft-hearted men, that wisely know,
They're only good men that pay what they owe.
2nd Cred. And so they are.
1st Cred. It is the city doctrine:
We stand bound to maintain it.
Charal. Be constant in it;
And since you are as merciless in your natures,
As base and mercenary in your means
By which you get your wealth, I will not urge
The court to take away one scruple from
The right of their laws, or wish one good thought
In you, to mend their disposition with.
I know there is no music to your ears
So pleasing as the groans of men in prison;
And that the tears of widows, and the cries
Of famished orphans, are the feasts that take you;
That to be in your danger, with more care
Should be avoided than infectious air,
The loathed embraces of diseasèd women,
A flatterer's poison, or the loss of honour.—
Yet, rather than my father's reverend dust
Shall want a place in that fair monument
In which our noble ancestors lie entombed,
Before the court I offer up myself
A prisoner for it. Load me with those irons
That have worn out his life; in my best strength
I'll run to the encounter of cold, hunger,
And choose my dwelling where no sun dares enter,
So he may be released.
1st Cred. What mean you, sir?
2nd Advo. Only your fee again: there's so much said
Already in this cause, and said so well,
That, should I only offer to speak in it,
I should or not be heard, or laughed at for it.
1st Cred. 'Tis the first money advocate e'er gave back,
Though he said nothing.
Roch. Be advised, young lord,
And well considerate; you throw away
Your liberty and joys of life together:
Your bounty is employed upon a subject
That is not sensible of it, with which wise man
Never abused his goodness. The great virtnes
Of your dead father vindicate themselves
From these men's malice, and break ope the prison,
Though it contain his body,
Nov. sen. Let him alone:
If he love cords, in God's name let him wear them;
Provided these consent.
Charal. I hope they are not
So ignorant in any way of profit,
As to neglect a possibility
To get their own, by seeking it from that
Which can return them nothing but ill fame,
And curses, for their barbarous cruelties.
3rd Cred. What think you of the offer?
2nd Cred. Very well.
1st Cred. Accept it by all means. Let's shut him up:
He is well shaped, and has a villainous tongue,
And, should he study that way of revenge,
As I dare almost swear he loves a wench,
We have no wives, nor never shall get daughters,
That will hold out against him.
Du Croy. What's your answer?
2nd Cred. Speak you for all.
1st Cred. Why, let our executions,
That lie upon the father, be returned
Upon the son, and we release the body.
Nov. sen. The court must grant you that.
Charal. I thank your lordships.
They have in it confirmed on me such glory
As no time can take from me: I am ready,
Come, lead me where you please. Captivity,
That comes with honour, is true liberty.
[Exeunt CHARALOIS, CHARMI, Officers, and Creditors.
Nov. sen. Strange rashness!
Roch. A brave resolution rather,
Worthy a better fortune: but, however,
It is not now to be disputed; therefore
To my own cause. Already I have found
Your lordships bountiful in your favours to me,
And that should teach my modesty to end here,
And press your loves no further.
Du Croy. There is nothing
The court can grant, but with assurance you
May ask it, and obtain it.
Roch. You encourage
A bold petitioner, and 'tis not fit
Your favours should be lost: besides, 't has been
A custom many years, at the surrendering
The place I now give up, to grant the president
One boon, that parted with it; and, to confirm
Your grace towards me, against all such as may
Detract my actions and life hereafter,
I now prefer it to you.
Du Croy. Speak it freely.
Roch. I then desire the liberty of Romont,
And that my Lord Novall, whose private wrong
Was equal to the injury that was done
To the dignity of the court, will pardon it,
And now sign his enlargement.
Nov. sen. Pray you demand
The moiety of my estate, or any thing
Within my power, but this.
Roch. Am I denied then
My first and last request?
Du Croy. It must not be.
2nd Pre. I have a voice to give in it.
3rd Pre. And I.
And if persuasion will not work him to it,
We will make known our power.
Nov. sen. You are too violent;
You shall have my consent: but would you had
Made trial of my love in any thing
But this, you should have found then—but it skills not;
You have what you desire.
Roch. I thank you lordships.
Du Croy. The court is up. Make way.
[Exeunt all but ROCHFORT and BEAUMONT.
Roch. I follow you.
Beaumont!
Beau. My lord.
Roch. You are a scholar, Beaumont;
And can search deeper into the intents of men,
Than those that are less knowing.—How appeared
The piety and brave behaviour of
Young Charalois, to you?
Beau. It is my wonder,
Since I want language to express it fully:
And sure the colonel_____
Roch. Fie! he was faulty.
What present money have I?
Beau. There's no want
Of any sum a private man has use for.
Roch. 'Tis well:
I am strangely taken with this Charalois.
Methinks, from his example the whole age
Should learn to be good, and continue so.
Virtue works strangely with us; and his goodness,
Rising above his fortune, seems to me,
Prince-like, to will, not ask, a courtesy. [Exeunt.
ACT THE SECOND.
SCENE 1.— A Street before the Prison.
Enter PONTALIER, MALOTIN, and BEAUMONT.
MAL. 'Tis strange.
Beau. Methinks so.
Pont. In a man but young,
Yet old in judgment; theoric and practic
In all humanity, and, to increase the wonder,
Religious, yet a soldier; that he should
Yield his free-living youth a captive for
The freedom of his aged father's corpse,
And rather choose to want life's necessaries,
Liberty, hope of fortune, than it should
In death be kept from Christian ceremony.
Mal. Come, 'tis a golden precedent in a son,
To let strong nature have the better hand,
In such a case, of all affected reason.
What years sit on this Charalois?
Beau. Twenty-eight:
For since the clock did strike him seventeen old,
Under his father's wing this son hath fought,
Served and commanded, and so aptly both,
That sometimes he appeared his father's father,
And never less than's son; the old man's virtues
So recent in him, as the world may swear,
Nought but a fair tree could such fair fruit bear.
Pont. But wherefore lets he such a barbarous law,
And men more barbarous to execute it,
Prevail on his soft disposition,
That he had rather die alive for debt
Of the old man, in prison, than he should
Rob him of sepulture; considering
These moneys borrowed bought the lenders peace,
And all the means they enjoy, nor were diffused
In any impious or licentious path?
Beau. True! for my part, were it my father's trunk,
The tyrannous ram-heads with their horns should gore it,
Or cast it to their curs, than they less currish,
Ere prey on me so with their lion-law,
Being in my free-will, as in his, to shun it.
Pont. Alas! he knows himself in poverty lost:
For, in this partial avaricious age,
What price bears honour? virtue? long ago,
It was but praised, and freezed; but now-a-days,
'Tis colder far, and has nor love nor praise:
The very praise now freezeth too; for nature
Did make the heathen far more Christian then,
Than knowledge us, less heathenish, Christian.
Mal. This morning is the funeral?
Pont. Certainly,
And from this prison,—'twas the son's request.
That his dear father might interment have,
See, the young son entered a lively grave!
Beau. They come:—observe their order.
Solemn music. Enter the Funeral Procession. The Coffin borne by four,
preceded
by a Priest. Captains, Lieutenants, Ensigns, and Soldiers; Mourners,
Scutcheons, &c., and very good order. ROMONT and CHARALOIS, followed
by the Gaolers and Officers, with Creditors, meet it.
Charal. How like a silent stream shaded with night,
And gliding softly, with our windy sighs,
Moves the whole frame of this solemnity!
Tears, sighs, and blacks, filling the simile;
Whilst I, the only murmur in this grove
Of death, thus hollowly break forth. Vouchsafe
[To the Bearers, who set down the Coffin.
To stay awhile.—Rest, rest in peace, dear earth!
Thou that brought'st rest to their unthankful lives,
Whose cruelty denied thee rest in death!
Here stands thy poor executor, thy son,
That makes his life prisoner to bail thy death;
Who gladlier puts on this captivity
Than virgins, long in love, their wedding weeds.
Of all that ever thou hast done good to,
These only have good memories; for they
Remember best forget not gratitude.
I thank you for this last and friendly love.
[To the Soldiers.
And though this country, like a viperous mother,
Not only hath eat up ungratefully
All means of thee, her son, but last, thyself,
Leaving thy heir so bare and indigent
He cannot raise thee a poor monument,
Such as a flatterer or a usurer hath,
Thy worth, in every honest breast, builds one,
Making their friendly hearts thy funeral stone.
Pont. Sir.
Charal. Peace! O, peace! this scene is wholly mine.
What! weep ye, soldiers? blanch not.—Romont weeps!_____
Ha! let me see!—my miracle is eased,
The gaolers and the creditors do weep;
Even they that make us weep, do weep themselves!
Be these thy body's balm! these and thy virtue
Keep thy fame ever odoriferous,
Whilst the great, proud, rich, undeserving man,
Alive, stinks in his vices, and, being vanished,
The golden calf, that was an idol decked
With marble pillars, jet, and porphyry,
Shall quickly, both in bone and name, consume,
Though wrapt in lead, spice, cerecloth, and perfume!
1st Cred. Sir.
Charal. What? away, for shame! you, profane rogues,
Must not be mingled with these holy relics;
This is a sacrifice: our shower shall crown
His sepulchre with olive, myrrh, and bays,
The plants of peace, of sorrow, victory;
Your tears would spring but weeds.
1st Cred. Would they? Not so;
We'll keep them to stop bottles then.
Rom. No, keep them
For your own sins, you rogue, till you repent;
You'll die else, and be damned.
2nd Cred. Damned!—ha! ha! ha!
Rom. Lough ye?
3rd Cred. Yes, faith, sir; we would be very glad
To please you either way.
1st Cred. You are ne'er content,
Crying nor laughing.
Rom. Both with a birth, ye rogues?
2nd Cred. Our wives, sir, taught us.
Rom. Look, look, you slaves! your thankless cruelty,
And savage manners of unkind Dijon,
Exhaust these floods, and not his father's death.
1st Cred. 'Slid, sir! what would ye? ye're so choleric.
2nd Cred. Most soldiers are so, i'faith?—let him alone.
They have little else to live on. We've not had
A penny of him, have we?
3rd Cred. 'Slight! would you have our hearts?
1st Cred. We have nothing but his body here in durance,
For all our money.
Priest. On.
Charal. One moment more,
But to bestow a few poor legacies,
All I have left in my dead father's rights,
And I have done. Captain, wear thou these spurs,
That yet ne'er made his horse run from a foe.
Lieutenant, thou this scarf; and may it tie
Thy valour and thy honesty together!
For so it did in him. Ensign, this cuirass,
Your general's necklace once. You, gentle bearers,
Divide this purse of gold; this other, strew
Among the poor; 'tis all I have. Romont_____
Wear thou this medal of himself_____that, like
A hearty oak, grew'st close to this tall pine,
Even in the wildest wilderness of war,
Whereon foes broke their swords, and tired themselves:
Wounded and hacked ye were, but never felled.
For me, my portion provide in Heaven!_____
My root is earthed, and I, a desolate branch,
Left scattered in the highway of the world,
Trod under foot, that might have been a column
Mainly supporting our demolished house.
This would I wear as my inheritance_____
And what hope can arise to me from it,
When I and it are both here prisoners!
Only may this, if ever we be free,
Keep, or redeem, me from all infamy.
A DIRGE (to solemn music).
Fie! cease to wonder,
Though you hear Orpheus with his ivory lute
Move trees and rocks,
Charm bulls, bears, and men more savage, to be mute;
Weak foolish singer, here is one
Would have transformed thyself to stone.
1st Cred. No farther; look to them at your own peril.
2nd Cred. No, as they please: their master's a good man_____
I would they were at the Bermudas!
Gaol. You must no further.
The prison limits you, and the creditors
Exact the strictness.
Rom. Out, you wolvish mongrels!
Whose brains should be knocked out, like dogs in July,
Lest your infection poison a whole town.
Charal. They grudge our sorrow. Your ill wills perforce
Turn now to charity. They would not have us
Walk too far mourning; usurer's relief
Grieves, if the debtors have too much of grief. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.—A Room in ROCHFORT'S House.
Enter BEAUMELLE, FLORIMEL, and BELLAPERT.
Beaumel. I prithee tell me, Florimel, why do women marry?
Flor. Why truly, madam, I think, to lie with their husbands.
Bell. You are a fool. She lies, madam; women marry husbands, to lie
with other men.
Flor. 'Faith, even such a woman, wilt thou make. By this light,
madam,
this wagtail will spoil you, if you take delight in her licence.
Beaumel. 'Tis true, Florimel; and thou wilt make me too good for a
young lady. What an electuary found my father out for his daughter, when he
compounded you two my women! for thou, Florimel, art even a grain too heavy,
simply, for a waiting-gentlewoman_____
Flor. And thou, Bellapert, a grain too light.
Bell. Well, go thy ways, Goody Wisdom, whom nobody regards. I wonder
whether be elder, thou or thy hood? You think, because you served my lady's
mother, are thirty-two years old, which is a pip out, you know_____
Flor. Well said, whirligig.
Bell. You are deceived; I want a peg in the middle.—Out of these
prerogatives, you think to be mother of the maids here, and mortify them with
proverbs; go, go, govern the sweetmeats, and weigh the sugar, that the wenches
steal none; say your prayers twice a day, and, as I take it, you have
performed
your function.
Flor. I may be even with you.
Bell. Hark! the court's broke up. Go, help my old lord out of his
caroch, and scratch his head till dinner time.
Flor. Well. [Exit.
Bell. Fie, madam, how you walk! By my maidenhead, you look seven years
older than you did this morning. Why, there can be nothing under the sun
valuable to make you thus a minute.
Beaumel. Ah, my sweet Bellapert, thou cabinet
To all my counsels, thou dost know the cause
That makes thy lady wither thus in youth.
Bell. Uds-light! enjoy your wishes: whilst I live,
One way or other you shall crown your will.
Would you have him your husband that you love,
And can it not be? he is your servant, though,
And may perform the office of a husband.
Beaumel. But there is honour, wench.
Bell. Such a disease
There is indeed, for which ere I would die_____
Beaumel. Prithee, distinguish me a maid and wife.
Bell. 'Faith, madam, one may bear any man's children,
t'other must bear
no man's.
Beaumel. What is a husband?
Bell. Physic, that, tumbling in your belly, will make you sick in the
stomach. The only distinction betwixt a husband and a servant is, the first
will
lie with you when he please; the last shall lie with you when you please. Pray
tell me, lady, do you love, to marry after, or would you marry, to love after?
Beaumel. I would meet love and marriage both at once.
Bell. Why, then you are out of the fashion, and will be contemned:
for
I will assure you, there are few women in the world, but either they have
married first, and love after; or love first, and married after. You must
do as
you may, not as you would; your father's will is the goal you must fly
to. If a
husband approach you you would have further off, is he you love the less near
you? A husband in these days is but a cloak, to be oftener laid upon your bed
than in your bed.
Beaumel. Humph!
Bell. Sometimes you may wear him on your shoulder; now and then under
your arm; but seldom or never let him cover you, for 'tis not the fashion.
Enter NOVALL, junior, PONTALIER, MALOTIN, LILADAM, and AYMER.
Nov. jun. Best day to Nature's curiosity,
Star of Dijon, the lustre of all France!
Perpetual spring dwell on thy rosy cheeks,
Whose breath is perfume to our continent!_____
See! Flora trimmed in her varieties.
Bell. O, divine lord!
Nov. jun. No autumn nor no age ever approach
This heavenly piece; which Nature having wrought,
She lost her needle, and did then despair
Ever to work so lively and so fair!
Lilad. Uds-light! my lord, one of the purls of your band is, without
all discipline, fallen out of his rank.
Nov. jun. How! I would not for a thousand crowns she had seen't. Dear
Liladam, reform it.
Bell. Oh lord per se, lord! quintessence of honour! she walks not
under a weed that could deny thee anything.
Beaumel. Prithee peace, wench; thou dost but blow the fire,
That flames too much already.
[LILADAM and AYMER trim NOVALL, while BELLAPERT dresses her
lady.
Aym. By gad, my lord, you have the divinest tailor of Christendom; he
hath made you look like an angel in your cloth-of-tissue doublet.
Pont. This is a three-legged lord; there's a fresh assault. Oh! that
men should spend time thus! See, see, how her blood drives to her heart, and
straight vaults to her cheeks again!
Malot. What are these?
Pont. One of them there, the lower, is a good, foolish, knavish,
sociable gallimaufry of a man, and has much caught my lord with singing; he is
master of a musichouse. The other is his dressing-block, upon whom my lord
lays
all his clothes and fashions ere he vouchsafes them his own person: you shall
see him in the morning in the Galleyfoist, at noon in the Bullion, in the
evening in Querpo5 and all night in_____
Malot. A bawdyhouse.
Pont. If my lord deny, they deny; if he affirm, they affirm: they skip
into my lord's cast skins some twice a year; and thus they lie to eat, eat to
live, and live to praise my lord.
Malot. Good sir, tell me one thing.
Pont. What's that?
Malot. Dare these men ever fight on any cause?
Pont. Oh, no! 'twould spoil their clothes, and put their bands out of
order.
Nov. jun. Mistress, you hear the news? your father has resigned his
presidentship to my lord my father.
Malot. And Lord Charalois
Undone for ever.
Pont. Troth, 'tis pity, sir.
A braver hope of so assured a father
Did never comfort France.
Lilad. A good dumb mourner.
Aym. A silent black.
Nov. jun. Oh, fie upon him, how he wears his clothes!
As if he had come this Christmas from St. Omers,
To see his friends, and returned after Twelfth-tide.
Lilad. His colonel looks finely like a drover—
Nov. jun. That had a winter lain perdu in the rain.
Aym. What, he that wears a clout about his neck,
His cuffs in's pocket, and his heart in's mouth?
Nov. jun. Now, out upon him!
Beaumel. Servant, tie my hand.
[NOVALL jun. kisses her hand.
How your lips blush, in scorn that they should pay
Tribute to hands, when lips are in the way!
Nov. jun. I thus recant; [Kisses her.] yet now your hand looks
white,
Because your lips robbed it of such a right.
Monsieur Aymer, I prithee sing the song
Devoted to my mistress.
Aym. [Sings.] [Music.
A DIALOGUE BETWEEN A MAN AND A WOMAN.
Man. Set, Phœbus, set; a fairer sun doth rise
From the bright radiance of my mistress' eyes
Than ever thou begatt'st: I dare not look;
Each hair a golden line, each word a hook,
The more I strive, the more still I am took.
Wom. Fair servant, come; the day these eyes do lend
To warm thy blood, thou dost so vainly spend;
Come, strangle breath.
Man. What note so sweet as this,
That calls the spirits to a further bliss?
Wom. Yet this out-savours wine, and this perfume.
Man. Let's die; I languish, I consume.
Enter ROCHFORT and BEAUMONT.
Beau. Romont will come, sir, straight.
Roch. 'Tis well.
Beaumel. My father!
Nov. jun. My honourable lord.
Roch. My Lord Novall, this is a virtue in you;
So early up and ready before noon,
That are the map of dressing through all France!
Nov. jun. I rise to say my prayers, sir; here's my saint.
Roch. 'Tis well and courtly:—you must give me leave,—
I have some private conference with my daughter;
Pray use my garden: you shall dine with me.
Lilal. We'll wait on you,
Nov. jun. Good morn unto your lordship!
Remember what you have vowed— [Aside to BEAUMELLE.
Beaumel. Perform I must.
[Exeunt all but ROCHFORT and BEAUMELLE.
Roch. Why, how now, Beaumelle? thou look'st not well.
Thou art sad of late;—come, cheer thee, I have found
A wholesome remedy for these maiden fits:
A goodly oak whereon to twist my vine,
Till her fair branches grow up to the stars.
Be near at hand.—Success crown my intent!
My business fills my little time so full,
I cannot stand to talk; I know thy duty
Is handmaid to my will, especially
When it presents nothing but good and fit.
Beaumel. Sir, I am yours.—Oh! if my fears prove true,
Fate hath wronged love, and will destroy me too.
[Aside and exit.
Enter ROMONT and Gaoler.
Rom. Sent you for me, sir?
Roch. Yes.
Rom. Your lordship's pleasure?
Roch. Keeper, this prisoner I will see forthcoming,
Upon my word.—Sit down, good colonel. [Exit Gaoler.
Why I did wish you hither, noble sir,
Is to advise you from this iron carriage,
Which so affectedly, Romont, you wear;
To pity, and to counsel you submit
With expedition to the great Novall:
Recant your stern contempt, and slight neglect
Of the whole court and him, and opportunely,
Or you will undergo a heavy censure
In public, very shortly.
Rom. Hum, hum—reverend sir,
I have observed you, and do know you well;
And am now more afraid you know not me,
By wishing my submission to Novall,
Than I can be of all the bellowing mouths
That wait upon him to pronounce the censure,
Could it determine me torments and shame.
Submit, and crave forgiveness of a beast!_____
'Tis true, this boil of state wears purple tissue,
Is high-fed, proud; so is his lordship's horse,
And bears as rich caparisons. I know
This elephant carries on his back not only
Towers, castles, but the ponderous republic,
And never stoops for't; with his strong-breathed trunk,
Snuffs others' titles, lordships, offices,
Wealth, bribes, and lives, under his ravenous jaws:
What's this unto my freedom? I dare die;
And therefore ask this camel, if these blessings
(For so they would be understood by a man)
But mollify one rudeness in his nature,
Sweeten the eager relish of the law,
At whose great helm he sits. Helps he the poor,
In a just business? nay, does he not cross
Every deservèd soldier and scholar,
As if, when Nature made him, she had made
The general antipathy of all virtue?
How savagely and blasphemously he spake
Touching the general, the brave general dead!
I must weep when I think on't.
Roch. Sir.
Rom. My lord,
I am not stubborn; I can melt, you see,
And prize a virtue better than my life:
For, though I be not learned, I ever loved
That holy mother of all issues good,
Whose white hand, for a sceptre, holds a file
To polish roughest customs; and, in you,
She has her right: see! I am calm as sleep.
But when I think of the gross injuries,
The godless wrong done to my general dead,
I rave indeed, and could eat this Novall;
A soulless dromedary!
Roch. Oh! be temperate.
Sir, though I would persuade, I'll not constrain:
Each man's opinion freely is his own
Concerning any thing, or any body;
Be it right or wrong, 'tis at the judge's peril.
Re-enter BEAUMONT.
Beau. These men, sir, wait without; my lord is come too.
Roch. Pay them those sums upon the table; take
Their full releases:—stay, I want a witness.
Let me entreat you, colonel, to walk in,
And stand but by to see this money paid;
It does concern you and your friend; it was
The better cause you were sent for, though said otherwise.
The deed shall make this my request more plain.
Rom. I shall obey your pleasure, sir, though ignorant
To what it tends. [Exeunt ROMONT and BEAUMONT.
Enter CHARALOIS.
Roch. Worthiest sir,
You are most welcome. Fie, no more of this!
You have outwept a woman, noble Charalois.
No man but has or must bury a father.
Charal. Grave sir, I buried sorrow for his death,
In the grave with him. I did never think
He was immortal—though I vow I grieve,
And see no reason why the vicious,
Virtuous, valiant, and unworthy man,
Should die alike.
Roch. They do not.
Charal. In the manner
Of dying, sir, they do not; but all die,
And therein differ not:—but I have done.
I spied the lively picture of my father,
Passing your gallery, and that cast this water
Into mine eyes. See,—foolish that I am,
To let it do so!
Roch. Sweet and gentle nature!
How silken is this well, comparatively
To other men! [Aside.] I have a suit to you, sir.
Charal. Take it, 'tis granted.
Roch. What?
Charal. Nothing, my lord.
Roch. Nothing is quickly granted.
Charal. Faith, my lord,
That nothing granted is even all I have,
For, all know, I have nothing left to grant.
Roch. Sir, have you any suit to me? I'll grant
You something, anything.
Charal. Nay, surely, I that can
Give nothing, will but sue for that again.
No man will grant me anything I sue for,
But begging nothing, every man will give it.
Roch. Sir!
The love I bore your father, and the worth
I see in you, so much resembling his,
Made me thus send for you:—and tender here,
[Draws a curtain, and discovers a table with money and jewels upon
it.
Whatever you will take, gold, jewels, both,
All, to supply your wants, and free yourself.
Where heavenly virtue in high-blooded veins
Is lodged, and can agree, men should kneel down,
Adore, and sacrifice all that they have;
And well they may, it is so seldom seen.—
Put off your wonder, and here freely take,
Or send your servants: nor, sir, shall you use,
In aught of this, a poor man's fee, or bribe
Unjustly taken of the rich, but what's
Directly gotten, and yet by the law.
Charal. How ill, sir, it becomes those hairs to mock!
Roch. Mock! thunder strike me then!
Charal. You do amaze me:
But you shall wonder too. I will not take
One single piece of this great heap. Why should I
Borrow, that have not means to pay? nay, am
A very bankrupt, even in flattering hope
Of ever raising any. All my begging,
Is Romont's liberty.
Re-enter ROMONT and BEAUMONT, with Creditors.
Roch. Here is your friend,
Enfranchised ere you spake. I give him to you;
And, Charalois, I give you to your friend,
As free a man as he. Your father's debts
Are taken off.
Charal. How!
Rom. Sir, it is most true;
I am the witness.
1st Cred. Yes, faith, we are paid.
2nd Cred. Heaven bless his lordship! I did think him wiser.
3rd Cred. He a statesman! he an ass. Pay other men's debts!
1st Cred. That he was never bound for.
Rom. One more such
Would save the rest of pleaders.
Charal. Honoured Rochfort_____
Lie still, my tongue, and, blushes, scald my cheeks,
That offer thanks in words, for such great deeds.
Roch. Call in my daughter. Still I have a suit to you,
[Exit BEAUMONT.
Would you requite me.
Rom. With his life, assure you.
Roch. Nay, would you make me now your debtor, sir_____
Re-enter BEAUMONT with BEAUMELLE.
This is my only child; what she appears,
Your lordship well may see: her education
Follows not any; for her mind, I know it
To be far fairer than her shape, and hope
It will continue so. If now her birth
Be not too mean for Charalois, take her,
This virgin by the hand, and call her wife,
Endowed with all my fortunes. Bless me so;
Requite me thus, and make me happier,
In joining my poor empty name to yours,
Than if my state were multiplied tenfold.
Charal. Is this the payment, sir, that you expect!
Why, you precipitate me more in debt,
That nothing but my life can ever pay.
This beauty being your daughter, in which "yours"
I must conceive necessity of her virtue,
Without all dowry is a prince's aim:
Then, as she is, for poor and worthless I
How much too worthy! Waken me, Romont,
That I may know I dreamed, and find this vanished.
Rom. Sure, I sleep not.
Roch. Your sentence—life or death.
Charal. Fair Beaumelle, can you love me?
Beaumel. Yes, my lord.
Enter NOVALL, junior, PONTALIER, MALOTIN, LILADAM, and AYMER. They
all
salute.
Charal. You need not question me if I can you:
You are the fairest virgin in Dijon,
And Rochfort is your father.
Nov. jun. [Aside.] What's this change?
Roch. You meet my wishes, gentlemen.
Rom. What make
These dogs in doublets here?
Beau. A visitation, sir.
Charal. Then thus, fair Beaumelle, I write my faith,
Thus seal it in the sight of Heaven and men!
Your fingers tie my heart-strings with this touch,
In true-love knots, which nought but death shall loose.
And let these tears, an emblem of our loves,
Like crystal rivers individually
Flow into one another, make one source,
Which never man distinguish, less divide!
Breath marry breath, and kisses mingle souls,
Two hearts and bodies here incorporate!
And, though with little wooing I have won,
My future life shall be a wooing time,
And every day new as the bridal one.
O, sir! I groan under your courtesies,
More than my father's bones under his wrongs:
You, Curtius-like, have thrown into the gulf
Of this his country's foul ingratitude
Your life and fortunes, to redeem their shames.
Roch. No more, my glory! come, let's in, and hasten
This celebration.
Rom., Mal., Pont., Beau. All fair bliss upon it!
[Exeunt ROCHFORT, CHARALOIS, ROMONT, BEAUMONT, and MALOTIN.
Nov. jun. [As BEAUMELLE is going out.] Mistress!
Beaumel. O, servant!—Virtue strengthen me!
Thy presence blows round my affection's vane:—
You will undo me, if you speak again. [Exit.
Lilad., Aym. Here will be sport for you! this works.
[Exeunt.
Nov. jun. Peace! peace!
Pont. One word, my Lord Novall.
Nov. jun. What, thou wouldst money?—there!
Pont. No, I will none; I'll not be bought a slave,
A pander, or a parasite, for all
Your father's worth. Though you have saved my life,
Rescued me often from my wants, I must not
Wink at your follies: that will ruin you.
You know my blunt way, and my love to truth—
Forsake the pursuit of this lady's honour,
Now you do see her made another man's,—
And such a man's, so good, so popular!—
Or you will pluck a thousand mischiefs on you.
The benefits you have done me are not lost,
Nor cast away, they are pursed here in my heart;
But let me pay you, sir, a fairer way
Than to defend your vices, or to soothe them.
Nov. jun. Ha, ha! what are my courses unto thee?—
Good cousin Pontalier, meddle with that
That shall concern thyself. [Exit.
Pont. No more but scorn!
Move on then, stars, work your pernicious will:
Only the wise rule, and prevent your ill. [Exit.
[Hautboys. Here a passage, over the stage, while the act is playing
for
the marriage of CHARALOIS with BEAUMELLE, &c.
ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I.— A Room in CHARALOIS' House.
Enter NOVALL, junior, and BELLAPERT.
NOV. jun. Fly not to these excuses; thou hast been
False in thy promise—and, when I have said
Ungrateful, all is spoken.
Bell. Good my lord,
But hear me only.
Nov. jun. To what purpose, trifler?
Can anything that thou canst say make void
The marriage, or those pleasures but a dream,
Which Charalois, O Venus! hath enjoyed?
Bell. I yet could say that you receive advantage
In what you think a loss, would you voucshafe me;
That you were never in the way, till now,
With safety to arrive at your desires;
That pleasure makes love to you, unattended
By danger or repentance.
Nov. jun. That I could
But apprehend one reason how this might be!
Hope would not then forsake me.
Bell. The enjoying
Of what you most desire, I say the enjoying,
Shall, in the full possession of your wishes,
Confirm that I am faithful.
Nov. jun. Give some relish
How this may appear possible.
Bell. I will,
Relish and taste, and make the banquet easy.
You say my lady's married,—I confess it;
That Charalois hath enjoyed her;—'tis most true:
That, with her, he's already master of
The best part of my old lord's state—still better.
But, that the first or last should be your hindrance,
I utterly deny; for, but observe me;
While she went for, and was, I swear, a virgin,
What courtesy could she, with her honour, give,
Or you receive with safety?—take me with you:
When I say courtesy, do not think I mean
A kiss, the tying of her shoe or garter,
An hour of private conference; those are trifles.
In this word courtesy we, that are gamesters, point at
The sport direct, where not alone the lover
Brings his artillery, but uses it;
Which word expounded to you, such a courtesy
Do you expect, and sudden.
Nov. jun. But he tasted
The first sweets, Bellapert,
Bell. He wronged you shrewdly!
He toiled to climb up to the phœnix' nest,
And in his prints leaves your ascent more easy.
I do not know, you that are perfect critics
In women's books, may talk of maidenheads—
Nov. jun. But for her marriage!
Bell. 'Tis a fair protection
'Gainst all arrests of fear or shame for ever.
Such as are fair, and yet not foolish, study
To have one at thirteen; but they are mad
That stay till twenty. Then, sir, for the pleasure,
To say adultery's sweeter, that is stale;
This only—is not the contentment more
To say, This is my cuckold, than my rival?
More I could say—but briefly, she dotes on you;
If it prove otherwise, spare not; poison me,
With the next gold you give me.
Enter BEAUMELLE.
Beaumel. How's this, servant!
Courting my woman?
Bell. As an entrance to
The favour of the mistress. You are together;
And I am perfect in my cue. [Going.
Beaumel. Stay, Bellapert.
Bell. In this I must not, with your leave, obey you.
Your tailor and your tirewoman wait without,
And stay my counsel and direction for
Your next day's dressing. I have much to do,
Nor will your ladyship, now time is precious,
Continue idle; this choice lord will find
So fit employment for you! [Exit.
Beaumel. I shall grow angry.
Nov. jun. Not so; you have a jewel in her, madam.
Re-enter BELLAPERT.
Bell. I had forgot to tell your ladyship
The closet is private, and your couch there ready:
And, if you please that I shall lose the key,
But say so, and 'tis done. [Exit.
Beaumel. You come to chide me, servant, and bring with you
Sufficient warrant. You will say, and truly,
My father found too much obedience in me,
By being won too soon; yet, if you please
But to remember all my hopes and fortunes
Had reference to his liking, you will grant
That, though I did not well towards you, I yet
Did wisely for myself.
Nov. jun. With too much fervour
I have so long loved, and still love you, mistress,
To esteem that an injury to me,
Which was to you convenient:—that is past
My help, is past my cure. You yet may, lady,
In recompense of all my duteous service,
(Provided that your will answer your power,)
Become my creditress.
Beaumel. I understand you;
And for assurance the request you make
Shall not be long unanswered,—pray you sit;
And by what you shall hear, you'll easily find,
My passions are much fitter to desire
Than to be sued to.
Enter ROMONT and FLORIMEL behind.
Flor. Sir, it is not envy
At the start my fellow has got of me in
My lady's good opinion, that's the motive
Of this discovery; but the due payment
Of what I owe her honour.
Rom. So I conceive it.
Flor. I have observed too much, nor shall my silence
Prevent the remedy:_____Yonder they are;
I dare not be seen with you. You may do
What you think fit, which will be, I presume,
The office of a faithful and tried friend
To my young lord. [Exit.
Rom. This is no vision: ha!
Nov. jun. With the next opportunity?
Beaumel. By this kiss,
And this, and this.
Nov. jun. That you would ever swear thus!
Rom. [Comes forward.] If I seem rude, your pardon,
lady;—yours
I do not ask: come; do not dare to show me
A face of anger, or the least dislike;
Put on, and suddenly, a milder look,
I shall grow rough else.
Nov. jun. What have I done, sir,
To draw this harsh unsavoury language from you?
Rom. Done, popinjay! why, dost thou think that, if
I e'er had dreamt that thou hadst done me wrong,
Thou shouldst outlive it?
Beaumel. This is something more
Than my lord's friendship gives commission for.
Nov. jun. Your presence and the place make him presume
Upon my patience.
Rom. As if thou e'er wert angry
But with thy tailor! and yet that poor shred
Can bring more to the making up of a man
Than can be hoped from thee: thou art his creature;
And did he not, each morning, new create thee,
Thou'dst stink, and be forgotten. I'll not change
One syllable more with thee, until thou bring
Some testimony, under good men's hands,
Thou art a Christian: I suspect thee strongly,
And will be satisfied; till which time, keep from me.—
The entertainment of your visitation
Has made what I intended one, a business.
Nov. jun. So! we shall meet.—Madam.
Rom. Use that leg again
And I'll cut off the other.
Nov. jun. Very good. [Exit.
Rom. What a perfume the muskcat leaves behind him!
Do you admit him for a property,
To save you charges, lady?
Beaumel. 'Tis not useless,
Now you are to succeed him.
Rom. So I respect you,
Not for yourself, but in remembrance of
Who is your father, and whose wife you now are,
That I choose rather not to understand
Your nasty scoff than_____
Beaumel. What, you will not beat me
If I expound it to you! Here's a tyrant
Spares neither man nor woman!
Rom. My intents,
Madam, deserve not this; nor do I stay
To be the whetstone of your wit: preserve it
To spend on such as know how to admire
Such coloured stuff. In me, there now speaks to you
As true a friend and servant to your honour,
And one that will with as much hazard guard it,
As ever man did goodness:—but then, lady,
You must endeavour not alone to be,
But to appear, worthy such love and service.
Beaumel. To what tends this?
Rom. Why, to this purpose, lady:
I do desire you should prove such a wife
To Charalois (and such a one he merits)
As Cæsar, did he live, could not except at
Not only innocent from crime, but free
From all taint and suspicion.
Beaumel. They are base
That judge me otherwise.
Rom. But yet be careful:
Detraction's a bold monster, and fears not
To wound the fame of princes, if it find
But any blemish in their lives to work on.
But I'll be plainer with you: had the people
Been learned to speak but what even now I saw,
Their malice out of that would raise an engine
To overthrow your honour. In my sight,
With yonder painted fool I frighted from you,
You used familiarity beyond
A modest entertainment; you embraced him
With too much ardour for a stranger, and
Met him with kisses neither chaste nor comely.
But learn you to forget him, as I will
Your bounties to him; you will find it safer
Rather to be uncourtly than immodest.
Beaumel. This pretty rag about your neck shows well,
And, being coarse and little worth, it speaks you
As terrible as thrifty.
Rom. Madam!
Beaumel. Yes:
And this strong belt, in which you hang your honour,
Will outlast twenty scarfs.
Rom. What mean you, lady?
Beaumel. And then all else about you cap-à-pié,
So uniform in spite of handsomeness,
Shows such a bold contempt of comeliness,
That 'tis not strange your laundress in the leaguer
Grew mad with love of you.
Rom. Is my free counsel
Answered with this ridiculous scorn?
Beaumel. These objects
Stole very much of my attention from me;
Yet something I remember, to speak truth,
Delivered gravely, but to little purpose,
That almost would have made me swear some curate
Had stolen into the person of Romont,
And, in the praise of Goodwife Honesty,
Had read an homily.
Rom. By this hand_____
Beaumel. And sword;
I will make up your oath, it will want weight else.—
You are angry with me, and poor I laugh at it.
Do you come from the camp, which affords only
The conversation of cast suburb whores,
To set down, to a lady of my rank,
Limits of entertainment?
Rom. Sure a legion
Has possessed this woman!
Beaumel. One stamp more would do well; yet I desire not
You should grow horn-mad till you have a wife.
You are come to warm meat, and perhaps clean linen;
Feed, wear it, and be thankful. For me, know,
That though a thousand watches were set on me,
And you the master-spy, I yet would use
The liberty that best likes me. I will revel,
Feast, kiss, embrace, perhaps grant larger favours;
Yet such as live upon my means shall know
They must not murmur at it. If my lord
Be now grown yellow, and has chose out you
To serve his jealousy this way, tell him this:
You have something to inform him. [Exit.
Rom. And I will;
Believe it, wicked one, I will. Hear, Heaven,
But, hearing, pardon me! if these fruits grow
Upon the tree of marriage, let me shun it,
As a forbidden sweet. An heir, and rich,
Young, beautiful, yet add to this—a wife,
And I will rather choose a spittle sinner
Carted an age before, though three parts rotten,
And take it for a blessing, rather than
Be fettered to the hellish slavery
Of such an impudence.
Enter BEAUMONT with writings.
Beau. Colonel, good fortune
To meet you thus! You look sad; but I'll tell you
Something that shall remove it. O, how happy
Is my Lord Charalois in his fair bride!
Rom. A happy man, indeed!—pray you, in what?
Beau. I dare swear, you would think so good a lady
A dower sufficient.
Rom. No doubt. But on.
Beau. So fair, so chaste, so virtuous, so—indeed,
All that is excellent!
Rom. [Aside.] Women have no cunning
To gull the world!
Beau. Yet, to all these, my lord,
Her father, gives the full addition of
All he does now possess in Burgundy:
These writings, to confirm it, are new sealed,
And I most fortunate to present him with them;
I must go seek him out. Can you direct me?
Rom. You'll find him breaking a young horse.
Beau. I thank you. [Exit.
Rom. I must do something worthy Charalois' friendship.
If she were well inclined, to keep her so
Deserved not thanks; and yet, to stay a woman
Spurred headlong by hot lust to her own ruin,
Is harder than to prop a falling tower
With a deceiving reed.
Enter ROCHFORT, speaking to a Servant within.
Roch. Some one seek for me
As soon as he returns.
Rom. Her father? ha!—
How if I break this to him? sure it cannot
Meet with an ill construction; his wisdom,
Made powerful by the authority of a father,
Will warrant and give privilege to his counsels.
It shall be so.—My lord!
Roch. Your friend, Romont.
Would you aught with me?
Rom. I stand so engaged
To your so many favours, that I hold it
A breach in thankfulness, should I not discover,
Though with some imputation to myself,
All doubts that may concern you.
Roch. The performance
Will make this protestation worth my thanks.
Rom. Then, with your patience, lend me your attention:
For what I must deliver, whispered only,
You will with too much grief receive.
Re-enter BEAUMELLE and BELLAPERT, behind.
Beaumel. See, wench!
Upon my life, as I forespake, he's now
Preferring his complaint; but be thou perfect,
And we will fit him.
Bell. Fear not me; pox on him!
A captain turn informer against kissing!
Would he were hanged up in his rusty armour!—
But, if our fresh wits cannot turn the plots
Of such a mouldy murrion on itself,
Rich clothes, choice fare, and a true friend at a call,
With all the pleasures the night yields, forsake us?
Roch. This is my daughter! do not wrong her.
Bell. Now
Begin: the game's afoot, and we in distance.
Beaumel. [Comes forward.] 'Tis thy fault, foolish girl! pin on my
veil,
I will not wear those jewels. Am I not
Already matched beyond my hopes? yet still
You prune and set me forth, as if I were
Again to please a suitor.
Bell. 'Tis the course
That our great ladies take.
Beaumel. A weak excuse!
Those that are better seen in what concerns
A lady's honour and fair fame, condemn it.
You wait well! in your absence my lord's friend,
The understanding, grave, and wise Romont_____
Rom. Must I be still her sport?
Beaumel. Reproved me for it;
And he has travelled to bring home a judgment
Not to be contradicted. You will say
My father, that owes more to years than he,
Has brought me up to music, language, courtship,
And I must use them: true; but not to offend,
Or render me suspected.
Roch. Does your fine story
Begin from this?
Beaumel. I thought a parting kiss
From young Novall would have displeased no more
Than heretofore it hath done; but I find
I must restrain such favours now; look, therefore,
As you are careful to continue mine,
That I no more be visited. I'll endure
The strictest course of life that jealousy
Can think secure enough, ere my behaviour
Shall call my fame in question.
Rom. Ten dissemblers
Are in this subtle devil! You believe this?
Roch. So far, that if you trouble me again
With a report like this, I shall not only
Judge you malicious in your disposition,
But study to repent what I have done
To such a nature.
Rom. Why, 'tis exceeding well.
Roch. And for you, daughter, off with this, off with it!
I have that confidence in your goodness, I,
That I will not consent to have you live
Like to a recluse in a cloister: go,
Call in the gallants, let them make you merry
Use all fit liberty.
Bell. Blessing on you!
If this new preacher with his sword and feather
Could prove his doctrine for canonical,
We should have a fine world. [Exit.
Roch. Sir, if you please
To bear yourself as fits a gentleman,
The house is at your service; but, if not,
Though you seek company elsewhere, your absence
Will not be much lamented. [Exit.
Rom. If this be
The recompense of striving to preserve
A wanton giglet honest, very shortly
'Twill make all mankind panders.—Do you smile,
Good lady looseness! your whole sex is like you,
And that man's mad that seeks to better any:
What new change have you next?
Beaumel. Oh, fear not you, sir;
I'll shift into a thousand, but I will
Convert your heresy.
Rom. What heresy? speak.
Beaumel. Of keeping a lady that is marrièd,
From entertaining servants_____
Enter NOVALL, junior, MALOTIN, LILADAM, AYMER, and PONTALIER.
_____O, you are welcome!
Use any means to vex him,
And then with welcome follow me. [Aside to them, and exit.
Nov. jun. You are tired
With your grave exhortations, colonel!
Lilad. How is it? faith, your lordship may do well
To help him to some church preferment: 'tis
The fashion now for men of all conditions,
However they have lived, to end that way.
Aym. That face would do well in a surplice.
Rom. Rogues,
Be silent—or—
Pont. 'Sdeath! will you suffer this?
Rom. And you, the master-rogue, the coward rascal,
I shall be with you suddenly.
Nov. jun. Pontalier,
If I should strike him, I know I should kill him;
And therefore I would have thee beat him, for
He's good for nothing else.
Lilad. His back
Appears to me as it would tire a beadle;
And then he has a knotted brow, would bruise
A courtlike hand to touch it.
Aym. He looks like
A currier when his hides grow dear.
Pont. Take heed
He curry not some of you.
Nov. jun. Gods me! he's angry.
Rom. I break no jests; but I can break my sword
About your pates.
Enter CHARALOIS and BEAUMONT.
Lilad. Here's more.
Aym. Come, let's begone:
We are beleaguered.
Nov. jun. Look, they bring up their troops.
Pont. Will you sit down
With this disgrace? you are abused most grossly.
Lilad. I grant you, sir, we are; and you would have us
Stay, and be more abused.
Nov. jun. My lord, I'm sorry
Your house is so inhospitable, we must quit it.
[Exeunt all but CHARALOIS and ROMONT.
Charal. Prithee, Romont, what caused this uproar?
Rom. Nothing;
They laughed, and used their scurvy wits upon me.
Charal. Come, 'tis thy jealous nature: but I wonder
That you, which are an honest man and worthy,
Should foster this suspicion: no man laughs,
No one can whisper, but thou apprehend'st
His conference and his scorn reflect on thee:
For my part, they should scoff their thin wits out,
So I not heard them; beat me, not being there.
Leave, leave these fits to conscious men, to such
As are obnoxious to those foolish things
As they can gibe at.
Rom. Well, sir.
Charal. Thou art known
Valiant without defect, rightly defined,
Which is as fearing to do injury,
As tender to endure it; not a brabbler,
A swearer_____
Rom. Pish, pish! what needs this, my lord?
If I be known none such, how vainly you
Do cast away good counsel! I have loved you,
And yet must freely speak; so young a tutor
Fits not so old a soldier as I am:
And I must tell you, 'twas in your behalf
I grew enraged thus, yet had rather die
Than open the great cause a syllable further.
Charal. In my behalf! Wherein hath Charalois
Unfitly so demeaned himself, to give
The least occasion to the loosest tongue
To throw aspersions on him? or so weakly
Protected his own honour, as it should
Need a defence from any but himself?
They are fools that judge me by my outward seeming.
Why should my gentleness beget abuse?
The lion is not angry that does sleep,
Nor every man a coward that can weep.
For God's sake, speak the cause.
Rom. Not for the world.
Oh! it will strike disease into your bones,
Beyond the cure of physic; drink your blood,
Rob you of all your rest, contract your sight,
Leave you no eyes but to see misery,
And of your own; nor speech, but to wish thus,
"Would I had perished in the prison's jaws,
From whence I was redeemed"—'twill wear you old
Before you have experience in that art
That causes your affliction.
Charal. Thou dost strike
A deathful coldness to my heart's high heat,
And shrink'st my liver like the calenture.
Declare this foe of mine, and life's, that like
A man I may encounter and subdue it.
It shall not have one such effect in me
As thou denouncest: with a soldier's arm,
If it be strength, I'll meet it; if a fault
Belonging to my mind, I'll cut it off
With mine own reason, as a scholar should.
Speak, though it make me monstrous.
Rom. I'll die first.
Farewell; continue merry, and high Heaven
Keep your wife chaste!
Charal. Hum! Stay, and take this wolf
Out of my breast, that thou hast lodged there, or
For ever lose me.
Rom. Lose not, sir, yourself,
And I will venture:—so, the door is fast. [Locks the door.
Now, noble Charalois, collect yourself,
Summon your spirits, muster all your strength
That can belong to man; sift passion
From every vein, and, whatsoe'er ensues,
Upbraid not me hereafter, as the cause of
Jealousy, discontent, slaughter, and ruin:
Make me not parent to sin.—You will know
This secret that I burn with?
Charal. Devil on't,
What should it be! Romont, I heard you wish
My wife's continuance of chastity.
Rom. There was no hurt in that.
Charal. Why, do you know
A likelihood, or possibility,
Unto the contrary?
Rom. I know it not, but doubt it; these the grounds:
The servant of your wife now, young Novall,
The son unto your father's enemy,
(Which aggravates presumption the more,)
I have been warned of, touching her:—nay, seen them
Tie heart to heart, one in another's arms,
Multiplying kisses, as if they meant
To pose arithmetic; or whose eyes would
Be first burnt out with gazing on the other's.
I saw their mouths engender, and their palms
Glued, as if love had locked them; their words flow
And melt each other's, like two circling flames,
Where chastity, like a phœnix, methought, burned,
But left the world nor ashes nor an heir.—
Why stand you silent thus? what cold dull phlegm,
As if you had no drop of choler mixed
In your whole constitution, thus prevails,
To fix you now thus stupid, hearing this?
Charal. You did not see him on my couch within,
Like George a-horseback, on her, nor a-bed?
Rom. No.
Charal. Ha! ha!
Rom. Laugh you! even so did your wife,
And her indulgent father.
Charal. They were wise:
Wouldst have me be a fool?
Rom. No, but a man.
Charal. There is no dram of manhood to suspect,
On such thin airy circumstance as this;
Mere compliment and courtship. Was this tale
The hideous monster which you so concealed?
Away, thou curious impertinent,
And idle searcher of such lean, nice toys!
Go, thou seditious sower of debate,
Fly to such matches, where the bridegroom doubts
He holds not worth enough to countervail
The virtue and the beauty of his wife!
Thou buzzing drone, that 'bout my ears dost hum,
To strike thy rankling sting into my heart,
Whose venom time nor medicine could assuage,
Thus do I put thee off! and, confident
In mine own innocency and desert,
Dare not conceive her so unreasonable
To put Novall in balance against me;
An upstart, craned up to the height he has.
Hence, busybody! thou'rt no friend to me,
That must be kept to a wife's injury.
Rom. Is't possible?—farewell, fine honest man!
Sweet-tempered lord, adieu! What apoplexy
Hath knit sense up? is this Romont's reward?
Bear witness, the great spirit of thy father,
With what a healthful hope I did administer
This potion, that hath wrought so virulently!
I not accuse thy wife of act, but would
Prevent her precipice to thy dishonour,
Which now thy tardy sluggishness will admit.
Would I had seen thee graved with thy great sire,
Ere lived to have men's marginal fingers point
At Charalois, as a lamented story!
An emperor put away his wife for touching
Another man; but thou wouldst have thine tasted,
And keep her, I think—Puff! I am a fire,
To warm a dead man, that waste out myself.
Bleed—what a plague, a vengeance, is't to me,
If you will be a cuckold? here, I show
A sword's point to thee; this side you may shun,
Or that, the peril; if you will run on,
I cannot help it.
Charal. Didst thou never see me
Angry, Romont?
Rom. Yes, and pursue a foe
Like lightning.
Charal. Prithee, see me so no more:
I can be so again. Put up thy sword,
And take thyself away, lest I draw mine.
Rom. Come, fright your foes with this, sir! I'm your friend,
And dare stand by you thus.
Charal. Thou art not my friend,
Or being so, thou art mad; I must not buy
Thy friendship at this rate. Had I just cause,
Thou know'st I durst pursue such injury
Through fire, air, water, earth, nay, were they all
Shuffled again to chaos; but there's none.
Thy skill, Romont, consists in camps, not courts.
Farewell, uncivil man! let's meet no more:
Here our long web of friendship I untwist.
Shall I go whine, walk pale, and lock my wife,
For nothing, from her birth's free liberty,
That opened mine to me? yes! if I do,
The name of cuckold then dog me with scorn!
I am a Frenchman, no Italian born. [Exit.
Rom. A dull Dutch rather. Fall and cool, my blood!
Boil not in zeal of thy friend's hurt so high,
That is so low and cold himself in't! Woman,
How strong art thou! how easily beguiled!
How thou dost rack us by the very horns!
Now wealth I see change manners and the man.
Something I must do mine own wrath to assuage,
And note my friendship to an after-age. [Exit.
ACT THE FOURTH.
SCENE I.—A Room in NOVALL'S House.
NOVALL, junior, discovered seated before a looking-glass, with a Barber
and Perfumer dressing his hair, while a Tailor adjusts a new suit
which he wears. LILADAM, AYMER, and a Page attending.
NOV. jun. Mend this a little: pox! thou hast burnt me. Oh, fie upon't! O
Lard! he has made me smell for all the world like a flax, or a red-headed
woman's chamber. Powder, powder, powder!
Perf. Oh, sweet lord!
Page. That's his perfumer.
Tail. Oh, dear lord!
Page. That's his tailor.
Nov. jun. Monsieur Liladam, Aymer, how allow you the model of these
clothes?
Aym. Admirably, admirably; oh, sweet lord! assuredly it's pity the
worms should eat thee.
Page. Here's a fine cell! a lord, a tailor, a perfumer, a barber, and
a
pair of monsieurs: three to three; as little wit in the one, as honesty in the
other. 'Sfoot! I'll into the country again, learn to speak truth, drink ale,
and
converse with my father's tenants; here I hear nothing all day
but—"Upon my
soul, as I am a gentleman, and an honest man!"
Aym. I vow and affirm, your tailor must needs be an expert
geometrician; he has the longitude, latitude, altitude, profundity, every
dimension of your body, so exquisitely—here's a lace laid as directly as i
f
truth were a tailor.
Page. That were a miracle.
Lilad. With a hair's-breadth error, there's a shoulder-piece cut, and
the base of a pickadille in puncto.
Aym. You are right, monsieur; his vestaments sit as if they grew upon
him, or art had wrought them on the same loom as nature framed his lordship;
as
if your tailor were deep read in astrology, and had taken measure of your
honourable body with a Jacob's staff, an ephemerides.
Tail. I am bound t'ye, gentlemen.
Page. You are deceived: they'll be bound to you: you must remember to
trust them none.
Nov. jun. Nay, 'faith, thou art a reasonable neat artificer, give the
devil his due.
Page. Ay, if he would but cut the coat according to the cloth still.
Nov. jun. I now want only my mistress' approbation, who is, indeed,
the
most polite, punctual queen of dressing in all Burgundy—pah! and makes all
other young ladies appear as if they came from board last week out of the
country: is't not true, Liladam?
Lilad. True, my lord! as if anything your lordship could say could be
otherwise than true.
Nov. jun. Nay, o' my soul, 'tis so; what fouler object in the world
than to see a young, fair, handsome beauty unhandsomely dighted and
incongruently accoutred? or a hopeful chevalier unmethodically appointed in
the
external ornaments of nature? For, even as the index tells us the contents of
stories, and directs to the particular chapters, even so does the outward
habit
and superficial order of garments (in man or woman) give us a taste of the
spirit, and demonstratively point (as it were a manual note from the
margin) all
the internal quality and habiliment of the soul; and there cannot be a more
evident, palpable, gross manifestation of poor, degenerate,
dunghilly blood and
breeding than rude, unpolished, disordered, and slovenly outside.
Page. An admirable lecture! oh, all you gallants,
that hope to be saved
by your clothes, edify, edify!
Aym. By the Lard, sweet lard, thou deservest a pension o' the state.
Page. O' the tailors: two such lords were able to spread tailors o'er
the face of a whole kingdom.
Nov. jun. Pox o' this glass! it flatters. I could find in my heart to
break it.
Page. O, save the glass, my lord, and break their heads;
They are the greater flatterers, I assure you.
Aym. Flatters! detracts, impairs—yet, put it by,
Lest thou, dear lord, Narcissus-like, shouldst dote
Upon thyself, and die; and rob the world
Of Nature's copy, that she works form by.
Lilad. Oh that I were the infanta queen of Europe!
Who but thyself, sweet lord, should marry me?
Nov. jun. I marry! were there a queen o' the world, not I.
Wedlock! no; padlock, horselock:—I wear spurs
[He capers.
To keep it off my heels. Yet, my Aymer,
Like a free, wanton jennet in the meadows,
I look about, and neigh, take hedge and ditch,
Feed in my neighbours' pastures, pick my choice
Of all their fair-maned mares; but, married once,
A man is staked or pound, and cannot graze
Beyond his own hedge.
Enter PONTALIER and MALOTIN.
Pont. I have waited, sir,
Three hours to speak wi' ye, and not take it well
Such magpies are admitted, whilst I dance
Attendance.
Lilad. Magpies! what d'ye take me for?
Pont. A long thing with a most unpromising face.
Aym. I'll never ask him what he takes me for.
Malot. Do not, sir,
For he'll go near to tell you.
Pont. Art not thou
A barber-surgeon?
Barb. Yes, sirrah; why?
Pont. My lord is sorely troubled with two scabs.
Lilad., Aym. Hum_____
Pont. I prithee cure him of them.
Nov. jun. Pish! no more,
Thy gall sure's overflown; these are my council,
And we were now in serious discourse.
Pont. Of perfume and apparel! Can you rise,
And spend five hours in dressing-talk with these?
Nov. jun. Thou'ldst have me be a dog: up, stretch, and shake,
And ready for all day.
Pont. Sir, would you be
More curious in preserving of your honour
Trim, 'twere more manly. I am come to wake
Your reputation from this lethargy
You let it sleep in; to persuade, importune,
Nay, to provoke you, sir, to call to account
This colonel Romont, for the foul wrong
Which, like a burthen, he hath laid on you,
And, like a drunken porter, you sleep under.
'Tis all the town talks; and, believe it, sir,
If your tough sense persist thus, you are undone,
Utterly lost; you will be scorned and baffled
By every lacquey: season now your youth
With one brave thing, and it shall keep the odour
Even to your death, beyond, and on your tomb
Scent like sweet oils and frankincense. Sir, this life,
Which once you saved, I ne'er since counted mine;
I borrowed it of you, and now will pay it:
I tender you the service of my sword,
To bear your challenge; if you'll write, your fate
I'll make mine own; whate'er betide you, I,
That have lived by you, by your side will die.
Nov. jun. Ha! ha! wouldst have me challenge poor Romont?—
Fight with close breeches, thou mayst think I dare not:
Do not mistake me, coz, I am very valiant;
But valour shall not make me such an ass.
What use is there of valour now-a-days?
'Tis sure or to be killed or to be hanged.
Fight thou as thy mind moves thee, 'tis thy trade:
Thou hast nothing else to do. Fight with Romont!
No; I'll not fight, under a lord.
Pont. Farewell, sir!
I pity you.
Such living lords walk, their dead honour's graves,
For no companions fit but fools and knaves.
Come, Malotin. [Exeunt PONTALIER and MALOTIN.
Enter ROMONT.
Lilad. 'Sfoot, Colbrand, the low giant!
Aym. He has brought a battle in his face, let's go.
Page. Colbrand, d'ye call him? he'll make some of you
Smoke, I believe.
Rom. By your leave, sirs!
Aym. Are you a consort?
Rom. Do you take me for
A fiddler? you're deceived: look! I'll pay you.
[Kicks them.
Page. It seems he knows you one, he bumfiddles you so.
Lilad. Was there ever so base a fellow?
Aym. A rascal.
Lilad. A most uncivil groom.
Aym. Offer to kick a gentleman in a nobleman's chamber! a pox o' your
manners!
Lilad. Let him alone, let him alone: thou shalt lose thy aim, fellow;
if we stir against thee, hang us.
Page. 'Sfoot! I think they have the better on him though they be
kicked, they talk so.
Lilad. Let's leave the mad ape. [Going.
Nov. jun. Gentlemen!
Lilad. Nay, my lord, we will not offer to dishonour you so much as to
stay by you, since he's alone.
Nov. jun. Hark you!
Aym. We doubt the cause, and will not disparage you so much as to
take
your lordship's quarrel in hand. Plague on him, how he has crumpled our bands!
Page. I'll e'en away with them, for this soldier beats man, woman,
and
child.
[Exeunt all but NOVALL, junior, and ROMONT.
Nov. jun. What mean you, sir? My people!
Rom. Your boy's gone, [Locks the door.
And your door's locked; yet for no hurt to you, sir,
But privacy. Call up your blood again:_____
Be not afraid, I do beseech you, sir;
And, therefore, come, without more circumstance,
Tell me how far the passages have gone
'Twixt you and your fair mistress, Beaumelle.
Tell me the truth, and by my hope of Heaven,
It never shall go further.
Nov. jun. Tell you! why, sir, are you my confessor?
Rom. I will be your confounder, if you do not.
[Draws a pocket dag.
Stir not, nor spend your voice.
Nov. jun. What will you do?
Rom. Nothing, but line your brain-pan, sir, with lead,
If you not satisfy me suddenly:
I am desperate of my life, and command yours.
Nov. jun. Hold! hold! I'll speak. I vow to Heaven, and you,
She's yet untouched, more than her face and hands.
I cannot call her innocent; for, I yield,
On my solicitous wooing, she consented,
Where time and place met opportunity,
To grant me all requests.
Rom. But may I build
On this assurance?
Nov. jun. As upon your faith.
Rom. Write this, sir; nay, you must.
[Draws inkhorn and paper.
Nov. jun. Pox of this gun!
Rom. Withal, sir, you must swear, and put your oath
Under your hand—shake not—ne'er to frequent
This lady's company, nor ever send
Token, or message, or letter, to incline
This too much prone already, yielding lady.
Nov. jun. 'Tis done, sir.
Rom. Let me see this first is right: [Reading.
And here you wish a sudden death may light
Upon your body, and hell take your soul,
If ever more you see her, but by chance;
Much less allure her. Now, my lord, your hand.
Nov. jun. My hand to this!
Rom. Your heart else, I assure you.
Nov. jun. Nay, there 'tis.
Rom. So! keep this last article
Of your faith given, and, 'stead of threatenings, sir,
The service of my sword and life is yours.
But not a word of it:—'tis fairies' treasure,
Which but revealed, brings on the blabber's ruin.
Use your youth better, and this excellent form
Heaven hath bestowed upon you. So, good morrow
To your lordship! [Exit.
Nov. jun. Good devil to your rogueship! No man's safe_____
I'll have a cannon planted in my chamber,
Against such roaring rogues.
Enter BELLAPERT, hastily.
Bell. My lord, away!
The caroch stays: now have your wish, and judge
If I have been forgetful.
Nov. jun. Hah!
Bell. Do you stand
Humming and hahing now? [Exit.
Nov. jun. Sweet wench, I come.
Hence, fear!
I swore—that's all one; my next oath I'll keep
That I did mean to break, and then 'tis quit.
No pain is due to lovers' perjury:
If Jove himself laugh at it, so will I. [Exit.
SCENE II.—An outer Room in AYMER'S House.
Enter CHARALOIS and BEAUMONT.
Beau. I grieve for the distaste, though I have manners
Not to inquire the cause, fallen out between
Your lordship and Romont.
Charal. I love a friend,
So long as he continues in the bounds
Prescribed by friendship; but, when he usurps
Too far on what is proper to myself,
And puts the habit of a governor on,
I must and will preserve my liberty.
But speak of something else, this is a theme
I take no pleasure in. What's this Aymer,
Whose voice for song, and excellent knowledge in
The chiefest parts of music, yoube stow
Such praises on?
Beau. He is a gentleman
(For so his quality speaks him) well received
Among our greatest gallants; but yet holds
His main dependence from the young Lord Novall.
Some tricks and crotchets he has in his head,
As all musicians have, and more of him
I dare not author: but, when you have heard him,
I may presume your lordship so will like him
That you'll hereafter be a friend to music.
Charal. I never was an enemy to't, Beaumont,
Nor yet do I subscribe to the opinion
Of those old captains that thought nothing musical
But cries of yielding enemies, neighing of horses,
Clashing of armour, loud shouts, drums, and trumpets;
Nor, on the other side, in favour of it,
Affirm the world was made by musical discord,
Or that the happiness of our life consists
In a well-varied note upon the lute:
I love it to the worth of't, and no further._____
But let us see this wonder.
Beau. He prevents
My calling of him.
Enter AYMER, speaking to one within.
Aym. Let the coach be brought
To the back gate, and serve the banquet up._____
My good Lord Charalois! I think my house
Much honoured in your presence.
Charal. To have means
To know you better, sir, has brought me hither
A willing visitant; and you'll crown my welcome
In making me a witness to your skill,
Which, crediting from others, I admire.
Aym. Had I been one hour sooner made acquainted
With your intent, my lord, you should have found me
Better provided: now, such as it is,
Pray you grace with your acceptance.
Beau. You are modest.
Aym. [To the Musicians within.] Begin the last new air.
Charal. Shall we not see them?
Aym. This little distance from the instruments
Will to your ears convey the harmony
With more delight.
Charal. I'll not contend.
Aym. [To the Musicians.] You are tedious.
[Aside.] By this means shall I with one banquet please
Two companies, those within and these gulls here. [Music.
CITIZENS' SONG OF THE COURTIER.
Courtier, if thou needs wilt wive,
From this lesson learn to thrive:
If thou match a lady that
Passes thee in birth and state,
Let her curious garments be
Twice above thine own degree;
This will draw great eyes upon her,
Get her servants, and thee honour.
Beaumel. [Within.] Ha! ha! ha!
Charal. [Aside.] How's this! it is my lady's laugh, most certain.
When I first pleased her, in this merry language
She gave me thanks.
Beau. How like you this?
Charal. 'Tis rare_____
[Aside.] Yet I may be deceived, and should be sorry,
Upon uncertain suppositions, rashly
To write myself in the black list of those
I have declaimed against, and to Romont.
Aym. I would he were well off!_____Perhaps your lordship
Likes not these sad tunes? I have a new song,
Set to a lighter note, may please you better;
'Tis called "The Happy Husband."
Charal. Pray sing it.
Aym. [Sings.]
COURTIER'S SONG OF THE CITIZENS.
Poor citizen, if thou wilt be
A happy husband, learn of me
To set thy wife first in thy shop;
A fair wife, a kind wife, a sweet wife, sets a poor man up.
What though thy shelves be ne'er so bare?
A woman still is current ware;
Each man will cheapen, foe and friend;
But, whilst thou art at t'other end,
Whate'er thou seest, or what dost hear,
Fool, have no eye to, nor an ear;
And after supper, for her sake,
When thou hast fed, snort, though thou wake:
What though the gallants call thee mome!
Yet with thy lantern light her home;
Then look into the town, and tell
If no such tradesmen there do well.
Beaumel. [Within.] Ha! ha! 'tis such a groom!
Charal. Do I hear this,
And yet stand doubtful? [Rushes into the house.
Aym. Stay him—I am undone,
And they discovered.
Beau. What's the matter?
Aym. Ah!
That women, when they're well pleased, cannot hold,
But must laugh out.
Re-enter CHARALOIS, with his sword drawn, pursuing NOVALL, junior,
BEAUMELLE, and BELLAPERT.
Nov. jun. Help! save me! murder! murder!
Beaumel. Undone for ever!
Charal. Oh, my heart!
Hold yet a little—do not hope to scape
By flight, it is impossible. Though I might
On all advantage take thy life, and justly,
This sword, my father's sword, that ne'er was drawn
But to a noble purpose, shall not now
Do the office of a hangman. I reserve it
To right mine honour, not for a revenge
So poor, that though with thee it should cut off
Thy family, with all that are allied
To thee in lust or baseness, 'twere still short of
All terms of satisfaction. Draw!
Nov. jun. I dare not:
I have already done you too much wrong,
To fight in such a cause.
Charal. Why, darest thou neither
Be honest coward, nor yet valiant knave,
In such a cause! come, do not shame thyself:
Such whose bloods wrongs, or wrong done to themselves,
Could never heat, are yet in the defence
Of their whores daring. Look on her again:
You thought her worth the hazard of your soul,
And yet stand doubtful, in her quarrel, to
Venture your body.
Beau. No, he fears his clothes,
More than his flesh.
Charal. Keep from me! guard thy life,
Or, as thou hast livèd like a goat, thou shalt
Die like a sheep.
Nov. jun. Since there's no remedy,
Despair of safety now in me prove courage!
[They fight; NOVALL is slain.
Charal. How soon weak wrong's o'erthrown! Lend me your hand:
Bear this to the caroch—come, you have taught me
To say, you must and shall!
[Exeunt BEAUMONT and BELLAPERT, with the Body of NOVALL;
followed by BEAUMELLE.
I wrong you not,
You are but to keep him company you love.—
Re-enter BEAUMONT.
Is't done? 'tis well. Raise officers, and take care
All you can apprehend within the house
May be forthcoming. Do I appear much moved?
Beau. No, sir.
Charal. My griefs are now thus to be borne;
Hereafter I'll find time and place to mourn. [Exeunt.
SCENE III.—A Street.
Enter ROMONT and PONTALIER.
Pont. I was bound to seek you, sir.
Rom. And, had you found me
In any place but in the street, I should
Have done,—not talked to you. Are you, the captain,
The hopeful Pontalier, whom I have seen
Do, in the field, such service as then made you
Their envy that commanded, here, at home,
To play the parasite to a gilded knave,
And, it may be, the pander?
Pont. Without this,
I come to call' you to account for what
Is past already. I, by your example
Of thankfulness to the dead general,
By whom you were raised, have practised to be so
To my good Lord Novall, by whom I live;
Whose least disgrace that is or may be offered,
With all the hazard of my life and fortunes
I will make good on you, or any man
That has a hand in't: and, since you allow me
A gentleman and a soldier, there's no doubt
You will except against me. You shall meet
With a fair enemy: you understand
The right I look for, and must have?
Rom. I do;
And with the next day's sun you shall hear from me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.—A Room in CHARALOIS' House.
Enter CHARALOIS with a casket, BEAUMELLE, and BEAUMONT.
Charal. Pray bear this to my father, at his leisure
He may peruse it: but with your best language
Entreat his instant presence. You have sworn
Not to reveal what I have done.
Beau. Nor will I—
But_____
Charal. Doubt me not; by Heaven, I will do nothing
But what may stand with honour. Pray you, leave me
[Exit BEAUMONT.
To my own thoughts.—If this be to me, rise:
[BEAUMELLE kneels.
I am not worth the looking on, but only
To feed contempt and scorn; and that from you,
Who, with the loss of your fair name, have caused it,
Were too much cruelty.
Beaumel. I dare not move you
To hear me speak. I know my fault is far
Beyond qualification or excuse;
That 'tis not fit for me to hope, or you
To think of mercy; only I presume
To entreat you would be pleased to look upon
My sorrow for it, and believe these tears
Are the true children of my grief, and not
A woman's cunning.
Charal. Can you, Beaumelle,
Having deceived so great a trust as mine,
Though I were all credulity, hope again
To get belief? No, no: if you look on me
With pity, or dare practise any means
To make my sufferings less, or give just cause
To all the world to think what I must do
Was called upon by you, use other ways:
Deny what I have seen, or justify
What you have done; and, as you desperately
Made shipwreck of your faith, to be a whore,
Use the arms of such a one, and such defence,
And multiply the sin with impudence;
Stand boldly up, and tell me to my teeth,
You have done merely but what's warranted
By great examples, in all places where
Women inhabit; urge your own deserts,
Or want in me of merit; tell me how
Your dower, from the low gulf of poverty,
Weighed up my fortunes to what now they are:
That I was purchased by your choice and practice,
To shelter you from shame, that you might sin
As boldly as securely; that poor men
Are married to those wives that bring them wealth,
One day their husbands, but observers ever;—
That when, by this proud usage, you have blown
The fire of my just vengeance to the height,
I then may kill you, and yet say 'twas done
In heat of blood, and after die myself,
To witness my repentance,
Beaumel. O my fate!
That never would consent that I should see
How worthy you were both of love and duty,
Before I lost you; and my misery made
The glass in which I now behold your virtue!
While I was good, I was a part of you,
And of two, by the virtuous harmony
Of our fair minds, made one; but, since I wandered
In the forbidden labyrinth of lust,
What was inseparable is by me divided._____
With justice, therefore, you may cut me off,
And from your memory wash the remembrance
That e'er I was; like to some vicious purpose,
Which, in your better judgment, you repent of,
And study to forget.
Charal. O Beaumelle,
That you can speak so well, and do so ill!
But you had been too great a blessing, if
You had continued chaste: see, how you force me
To this, because mine honour will not yield
That I again should love you.
Beaumel. In this life
It is not fit you should: yet you shall find,
Though I was bold enough to be a strumpet,
I dare not yet live one. Let those famed matrons,
That are canonized worthy of our sex,
Transcend me in their sanctity of life;
I yet will equal them in dying nobly,
Ambitious of no honour after life,
But that, when I am dead, you will forgive me.
Charal. How pity steals upon me! should I hear her
[Knocking within.
But ten words more, I were lost.—One knocks, go in.
[Exit BEAUMELLE.
That to be merciful should be a sin!
Enter ROCHFORT.
O, sir, most welcome!—Let me take your cloak,
I must not be denied.—Here are your robes,
As you love justice, once more put them on.
There is a cause to be determined of,
That does require such an integrity
As you have ever used.—I'll put you to
The trial of your constancy and goodness:
And look that you, that have been eagle-eyed
In other men's affairs, prove not a mole
In what concerns yourself. Take you your seat;
I will be for you presently. [Exit.
Roch. Angels guard me!
To what strange tragedy does this induction
Serve for a prologue?
Re-enter CHARALOIS, BEAUMELLE, and BEAUMONT, with Servants
bearing
the body of NOVALL, junior.
Charal. So, set it down before
The judgment-seat—[Exeunt Servants.]—and stand you at the bar:
[To BEAUMELLE.
For me, I am the accuser.
Roch. Novall slain!
And Beaumelle, my daughter, in the place
Of one to be arraigned!
Charal. O, are you touched!
I find that I must take another course.
Fear nothing, I will only blind your eyes;
[He binds his eyes.
For Justice should do so, when 'tis to meet
An object that may sway her equal doom
From what it should be aimed at.—Good my lord,
A day of hearing.
Roch. It is granted, speak—
You shall have justice.
Charal. I then here accuse,
Most equal judge, the prisoner, your fair daughter,
For whom I owed so much to you,—your daughter,
So worthy in her own parts, and that worth
Set forth by yours, to whose so rare perfections,
Truth witness with me, in the place of service
I almost paid idolatrous sacrifice,—
To be a false adulteress.
Roch. With whom?
Charal. With this Novall here dead.
Roch. Be well advised;
And ere you say adulteress again,
Her fame depending on it, be most sure
That she is one.
Charal. I took them in the act:
I know no proof beyond it.
Roch. O my heart!
Charal. A judge should feel no passions.
Roch. Yet remember
He is a man, and cannot put off nature.
What answer makes the prisoner?
Beaumel. I confess
The fact I am chargèd with, and yield myself
Most miserably guilty.
Roch. Heaven take mercy
Upon your soul, then! it must leave your body.—
Now free mine eyes; I dare unmoved look on her,
[CHARALOIS unbinds his eyes.
And fortify my sentence with strong reasons.
Since that the politic law provides that servants,
To whose care we commit our goods, shall die
If they abuse our trust, what can you look for,
To whose charge this most hopeful lord gave up
All he received from his brave ancestors,
Or he could leave to his posterity,
His honour, wicked woman! in whose safety
All his life's joys and comforts were locked up,
Which thy foul lust, a thief, hath now stolen from him;
And therefore_____
Charal. Stay, just judge:—may not what's lost
By her one fault, (for I am charitable,
And charge her not with many,) be forgotten
In her fair life hereafter?
Roch. Never, sir.
The wrong that's done to the chaste married bed,
Repentant tears can never expiate;
And be assured,—to pardon such a sin,
Is an offence as great as to commit it.
Charal. I may not then forgive her?
Roch. Nor she hope it.
Nor can she wish to live: no sun shall rise,
But, ere it set, shall show her ugly lust
In a new shape, and every one more horrid.
Nay, even those prayers which, with such humble fervour,
She seems to send up yonder, are beat back,
And all suits which her penitence can proffer,
As soon as made, are with contempt thrown out
Of all the courts of mercy.
Charal. Let her die, then! [He stabs her.
Better prepared, I am sure, I could not take her,
Nor she accuse her father, as a judge
Partial against her.
Beaumel. I approve his sentence,
And kiss the executioner. My lust
Is now run from me in that blood in which
It was begot and nourished. [Dies.
Roch. Is she dead, then?
Charal. Yes, sir; this is her heart-blood, is it not?
I think it be.
Roch. And you have killed her?
Charal. True,
And did it by your doom.
Roch. But I pronounced it
As a judge only, and a friend to justice;
And, zealous in defence of your wronged honour,
Broke all the ties of nature, and cast off
The love and soft affection of a father.
I, in your cause, put on a scarlet robe
Of red-dyed cruelty; but in return,
You have advanced for me no flag of mercy.
I looked on you as a wronged husband; but
You closed your eyes against me as a father.
O Beaumelle! my daughter!
Charal. This is madness.
Roch. Keep from me!—Could not one good thought rise up,
To tell you that she was my age's comfort,
Begot by a weak man, and born a woman,
And could not, therefore, but partake of frailty?
Or wherefore did not thankfulness step forth,
To urge my many merits, which I may
Object unto you, since you prove ungrateful,
Flint-hearted Charalois!
Charal. Nature does prevail
Above your virtue.
Roch. No; it gives me eyes
To pierce the heart of your design against me:
I find it now, it was my state was aimed at.
A nobler match was sought for, and the hours
I lived grew tedious to you: my compassion
Towards you hath rendered me most miserable,
And foolish charity undone myself.
But there's a Heaven above, from whose just wreak
No mists of policy can hide offenders.
Nov. sen. [Within.] Force ope the doors!
Enter NOVALL, senior, with Officers.
O monster! cannibal!
Lay hold on him. My son, my son!—O Rochfort,
'Twas you gave liberty to this bloody wolf
To worry all our comforts:_____but this is
No time to quarrel; now give your assistance
For the revenge_____
Roch. Call it a fitter name,
Justice for innocent blood.
Charal. Though all conspire
Against that life which I am weary of,
A little longer yet I'll strive to keep it,
To show, in spite of malice and their laws,
His plea must speed that hath an honest cause.
[Exeunt.
ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I.—A Street.
Enter Tailor, and two Bailiffs with LILADAM.
LILAD. Why, 'tis both most unconscionable and untimely,
To arrest a gallant for his clothes, before
He has worn them out: besides, you said you asked
My name in my lord's bond but for form only,
And now you'll lay me up for't! Do not think
The taking measure of a customer
By a brace of varlets, though I rather wait
Never so patiently, will prove a fashion
Which any courtier or inns-of-court-man
Would follow willingly.
Tail. There I believe you.
But, sir, I must have present moneys, or
Assurance to secure me when I shall;
Or I will see to your coming forth.
Lilad. Plague on't!
You have provided for my entrance in;
That coming forth you talk of, concerns me.
What shall I do? you have done me a disgrace
In the arrest, but more in giving cause
To all the street to think I cannot stand
Without these two supporters for my arms.
Pray you, let them loose me: for their satisfaction,
I will not run away.
Tail. For theirs, you will not;
But for your own, you would. Look to him, fellows.
Lilad. Why, do you call them fellows? do not wrong
Your reputation so. As you are merely
A tailor, faithful, apt to believe in gallants,
You are a companion at a ten-crown supper,
For cloth of bodkin, and may, with one lark,
Eat up three manchets, and no man observe you,
Or call your trade in question for't. But, when
You study your debt-book, and hold correspondence
With officers of the hanger, and leave swordmen,
The learned conclude, the tailor and the serjeant,
In the expression of a knave and thief,
To be synonyma. Look, therefore, to it,
And let us part in peace; I would be loth
You should undo yourself.
Enter NOVALL, senior, and PONTALIER.
Tail. To let you go,
Were the next way. But see! here's your old lord;
Let him but give his word I shall be paid,
And you are free.
Lilad. 'Slid! I will put him to't.
I can be but denied: or—what say you?
His lordship owing me three times your debt,
If you arrest him at my suit, and let me
Go run before, to see the action entered:—
'Twould be a witty jest!
Tail. I must have earnest:
I cannot pay my debts so.
Pont. Can your lordship
Imagine, while I live, and wear a sword,
Your son's death shall be unrevenged?
Nov. sen. I know not
One reason why you should not do like others:
I am sure, of all the herd that fed upon him,
I cannot see in any, now he's gone,
In pity or in thankfulness, one true sign
Of sorrow for him.
Pont. All his bounties yet
Fell not in such unthankful ground: 'tis true,
He had weaknesses, but such as few are free from;
And, though none soothed them less than I, (for now,
To say that I foresaw the dangers that
Would rise from cherishing them, were but untimely,)
I yet could wish the justice that you seek for,
In the revenge, had been trusted to me,
And not the uncertain issue of the laws.
It has robbed me of a noble testimony
Of what I durst do for him:—but, however,
My forfeit life redeemed by him, though dead,
Shall do him service.
Nov. sen. As far as my griet
Will give me leave, I thank you.
Lilad. O my lord!
O my good lord! deliver me from these Furies.
Pont. Arrested! this is one of them, whose base
And abject flattery helped to dig his grave:
He is not worth your pity, nor my anger.—
Go to the basket, and repent.
Nov. sen. Away!
I only know thee now to hate thee deadly:
I will do nothing for thee.
Lilad. Nor you, captain?
Pont. No; to your trade again; put off this case;
It may be, the discovering what you were,
When your unfortunate master took you up,
May move compassion in your creditor.
Confess the truth.
[Exeunt NOVALL, senior, and PONTALIER.
Lilad. And now I think on't better,
I will. Brother, your hand; your hand, sweet brother;
I'm of your sect, and my gallantry but a dream,
Out of which these two fearful apparitions
Against my will have waked me. This rich sword,
Grew suddenly out of a tailor's bodkin;
These hangers, from my vails and fees in hell;
And where as now this beaver sits, full often
A thrifty cap, composed of broad-cloth lists,
Near-kin unto the cushion where I sat,
Cross-legged, and yet ungartered, hath been seen:
Our breakfasts, famous for the buttered loaves,
I have with joy been oft acquainted with;
And therefore use a conscience, though it be
Forbidden in our hall towards other men,
To me, that, as I have been, will again
Be of the brotherhood.
1st Bail. I know him now;
He was a prentice to Le Robe at Orleans.
Lilad. And from thence brought by my young lord, now dead,
Unto Dijon, and with him, till this hour,
Hath been received here for a complete monsieur:
Nor wonder at it; for but tithe our gallants,
Even those of the first rank, and you will find
In every ten, one, peradventure two,
That smell rank of the dancing-school or fiddle,
The pantofle or pressing-iron:—but hereafter
We'll talk of this. I will surrender up
My suits again, there cannot be much loss;
'Tis but the turning of the lace, with one
Addition more you know of, and what wants,
I will work out.
Tail. Then here our quarrel ends:
The gallant is turned tailor, and all friends.
SCENE II.—The Court of Justice.
Enter ROMONT and BEAUMONT.
Rom. You have them ready?
Beau. Yes, and they will speak
Their knowledge in this cause, when you think fit
To have them called upon.
Rom. 'Tis well; and something
I can add to their evidence, to prove
This brave revenge, which they would have called murder,
A noble justice.
Beau. In this you express
(The breach by my lord's want of you new made up)
A faithful friend.
Rom. That friendship's raised on sand,
Which every sudden gust of discontent,
Or flowing of our passions, can change,
As if it ne'er had been:—but do you know
Who are to sit on him?
Beau. Monsieur Du Croy,
Assisted by Charmi.
Rom. The advocate
That pleaded for the marshal's funeral,
And was checked for it by Novall?
Beau. The same.
Rom. How fortunes that?
Beau. Why, sir, my Lord Novall,
Being the accuser, cannot be the judge;
Nor would grieved Rochfort but Lord Charalois,
However he might wrong him by his power,
Should have an equal hearing.
Rom. By my hopes
Of Charalois' acquittal, I lament
That reverend old man's fortune.
Beau. Had you seen him,
As, to my grief, I have, now promise patience,
And, ere it was believed, though spake by him
That never brake his word, enraged again
So far as to make war upon those hairs
Which not a barbarous Scythian durst presume
To touch, but with a superstitious fear,
As something sacred; and then curse his daughter,
But with more frequent violence himself,
As if he had been guilty of her fault,
By being incredulous of your report,
You would not only judge him worthy pity,
But suffer with him:—but here comes the prisoner;
Enter Officers with CHARALOIS.
I dare not stay to do my duty to him;
Yet, rest assured, all possible means in me
To do him service, keeps you company.
Rom. It is not doubted. [Exit BEAUMONT.
Charal. Why, yet as I came hither,
The people, apt to mock calamity,
And tread on the oppressed, made no horns at me,
Though they are too familiar I deserve them:
And, knowing too what blood my sword hath drunk,
In wreak of that disgrace, they yet forbare
To shake their heads, or to revile me for
A murderer; they rather all put on,
As for great losses the old Romans used,
A general face of sorrow, waited on
By a sad murmur breaking through their silence:
And no eye but was readier with a tear
To witness 'twas shed for me, than I could
Discern a face made up with scorn against me.
Why should I, then, though, for unusual wrongs,
I chose unusual means to right those wrongs,
Condemn myself, as over-partial
In my own cause?—Romont!
Rom. Best friend, well met!
By my heart's love to you, and join to that
My thankfulness that still lives to the dead,
I look upon you now with more true joy
Than when I saw you married.
Charal. You have reason
To give you warrant for't: my falling off
From such a friendship, with the scorn that answered
Your too prophetic counsel, may well move you
To think your meeting me, going to my death,
A fit encounter for that hate which justly
I have deserved from you.
Rom. Shall I still, then,
Speak truth, and be ill understood?
Charal. You are not.
I am conscious I have wronged you; and, allow me
Only a moral man,—to look on you,
Whom foolishly I have abused and injured,
Must of necessity be more terrible to me,
Than any death the judges can pronounce
From the tribunal which I am to plead at.
Rom. Passion transports you.
Charal. For what I have done
To my false lady, or Novall, I can
Give some apparent cause; but touching you,
In my defence, child-like, I can say nothing
But, I am sorry for't; a poor satisfaction!
And yet, mistake me not; for it is more
Than I will speak, to have my pardon signed
For all I stand accused of.
Rom. You much weaken
The strength of your good cause, should you but think,
A man for doing well could entertain
A pardon, were it offered: you have given
To blind and slow-paced justice wings and eyes,
To see and overtake impieties,
Which, from a cold proceeding, had received
Indulgence or protection.
Charal. Think you so?
Rom. Upon my soul! nor should the blood you challenged,
And took to cure your honour, breed more scruple
In your soft conscience, than if your sword
Had been sheathed in a tiger or she-bear,
That in their bowels would have made your tomb.
To injure innocence is more than murder:
But when inhuman lusts transform us, then
As beasts we are to suffer, not like men
To be lamented. Nor did Charalois ever
Perform an act so worthy the applause
Of a full theatre of perfect men,
As he hath done in this. The glory got
By overthrowing outward enemies,
Since strength and fortune are main sharers in it,
We cannot, but by pieces, call our own:
But, when we conquer our intestine foes,
Our passions bred within us, and of those
The most rebellious tyrant, powerful love,
Our reason suffering us to like no longer
Than the fair object, being good, deserves it,
That's a true victory! which, were great men
Ambitious to achieve, by your example
Setting no price upon the breach of faith,
But loss of life, 'twould fright adultery
Out of their families, and make lust appear
As loathsome to us in the first consent,
As when 'tis waited on by punishment.
Charal. You have confirmed me. Who would love a woman,
That might enjoy in such a man a friend!
You have made me know the justice of my cause,
And marked me out the way how to defend it.
Rom. Continue to that resolution constant,
And you shall, in contempt of their worst malice,
Come off with honour—here they come.
Charal. I am ready.
Enter DU CROY, CHARMI, ROCHFORT, NOVALL, senior, PONTALIER, and
BEAUMONT.
Nov. sen. See, equal judges, with what confidence
The cruel murderer stands, as if he would
Outface the court and justice!
Roch. But look on him,
And you shall find, for still methinks I do,
Though guilt hath dyed him black, something good in him,
That may perhaps work with a wiser man
Than I have been again to set him free,
And give him all he has.
Charmi. This is not well.
I would you had lived so, my lord, that I
Might rather have continued your poor servant,
Than sit here as your judge.
Du Croy. I am sorry for you.
Roch. In no act of my life I have deserved
This injury from the court, that any here,
Should thus uncivilly usurp on what
Is proper to me only.
Du Croy. What distaste
Receives my lord?
Roch. You say you are sorry for him;
A grief in which I must not have a partner.
'Tis I alone am sorry, that when I raised
The building of my life, for seventy years,
Upon so sure a ground that all the vices
Practised to ruin man, though brought against me,
Could never undermine, and no way left
To send these gray hairs to the grave with sorrow,
Virtue, that was my patroness, betrayed me;
For, entering, nay, possessing this young man,
It lent him such a powerful majesty
To grace whate'er he undertook that freely
I gave myself up, with my liberty,
To be at his disposing. Had his person,
Lovely I must confess, or far-famed valour,
Or any other seeming good, that yet
Holds a near neighbourhood with ill, wrought on me,
I might have borne it better: but, when goodness
And piety itself in her best figure
Were bribed to my destruction, can you blame me,
Though I forget to suffer like a man,
Or rather act a woman?
Beau. Good my lord!—
Nov. sen. You hinder our proceeding.
Charmi. And forget
The parts of an accuser.
Beau. Pray you, remember
To use the temper which to me you promised.
Roch. Angels themselves must break, Beaumont, that promise
Beyond the strength and patience of angels.
But I have done.—My good lord, pardon me,
A weak old man, and, pray you, add to that,
A miserable father; yet be careful
That your compassion of my age, nor his,
Move you to any thing that may disbecome
The place on which you sit.
Charmi. Read the indictment.
Charal. It shall be needless; I myself, my lords,
Will be my own accuser, and confess
All they can charge me with, nor will I spare
To aggravate that guilt with circumstance,
They seek to load me with; only I pray,
That, as for them you will vouchsafe me hearing,
I may not be denied it for myself,
When I shall urge by what unanswerable reasons
I was compelled to what I did, which yet,
Till you have taught me better, I repent not.
Roch. The motion's honest.
Charmi. And 'tis freely granted.
Charal. Then I confess, my lords, that I stood bound,
When, with my friends, even hope itself had left me,
To this man's charity, for my liberty;
Nor did his bounty end there, but began:
For, after my enlargement, cherishing
The good he did, he made me master of
His only daughter, and his whole estate,—
Great ties of thankfulness, I must acknowledge:
Could any one, feed by you, press this further?—
But yet consider, my most honoured lords,
If to receive a favour make a servant,
And benefits are bonds to tie the taker
To the imperious will of him that gives,
There's none but slaves will receive courtesies,
Since they must fetter us to our dishonours.
Can it be called magnificence in a prince,
To pour down riches with a liberal hand
Upon a poor man's wants, if they must bind him
To play the soothing parasite to his vices?
Or any man, because he saved my hand,
Presume my head and heart are at his service?
Or, did I stand engaged to buy my freedom
(When my captivity was honourable)
By making myself here, and fame hereafter,
Bondslaves to men's scorn, and calumnious tongues?—
Had his fair daughter's mind been like her feature,
Or, for some little blemish, I had sought
For my content elsewhere, wasting on others
My body and her dower, my forehead then
Deserved the brand of base ingratitude;
But if obsequious usage, and fair warning
To keep her worth my love, could not preserve her
From being a whore, and yet no cunning one,
So to offend, and yet the fault kept from me,
What should I do? Let any free-born spirit
Determine truly, if that thankfulness,
Choice form, with the whole world given for a dowry,
Could strengthen so an honest man with patience,
As with a willing neck to undergo
The insupportable yoke of slave, or wittol.
Charmi. What proof have you she did play false, besides
Your oath?
Charal. Her own confession to her father:
I ask him for a witness.
Roch. 'Tis most true.
I would not willingly blend my last words
With an untruth.
Charal. And then to clear myself,
That his great wealth was not the mark I shot at,
But that I held it, when fair Beaumelle
Fell from her virtue, like the fatal gold
Which Brennus took from Delphos, whose possession
Brought with it ruin to himself and army:
Here's one in court, Beaumont, by whom I sent
All grants and writings back which made it mine,
Before his daughter died by his own sentence,
As freely as, unasked, he gave it to me.
Beau. They are here to be seen.
Charmi. Open the casket.—
Peruse that deed of gift. [To DU CROY.
Rom. Half of the danger
Already is discharged; the other part
As bravely; and you are not only free,
But crowned with praise for ever!
Du Croy. 'Tis apparent.
Charmi. Your state, my lord, again is yours.
Roch. Not mine;
I am not of the world. If it can prosper,
(And yet, being justly got, I'll not examine
Why it should be so fatal,) do you bestow it
On pious uses: I'll go seek a grave.
And yet, for proof I die in peace, your pardon
I ask; and, as you grant it me, may Heaven,
Your conscience, and these judges, free you from
What you are charged with! So, farewell for ever!
[Exit.
Nov. sen. I'll be mine own guide. Passion nor example
Shall be my leaders. I have lost a son,
A son, grave judges; I require his blood
From his accursèd homicide.
Charmi. What reply you,
In your defence for this?
Charal. I but attended
Your lordships' pleasure.—For the fact, as of
The former, I confess it; but with what
Base wrongs I was unwillingly drawn to it,
To my few words there are some other proofs,
To witness this for truth. When I was married—
For there I must begin—the slain Novall
Was to my wife, in way of our French courtship,
A most devoted servant; but yet aimed at
Nothing but means to quench his wanton heat,
His heart being never warmed by lawful fires,
As mine was, lords: and though, on these presumptions,
Joined to the hate between his house and mine,
I might, with opportunity and ease,
Have found a way for my revenge, I did not;
But still he had the freedom as before,
When all was mine; and, told that he abused it
With some unseemly licence, by my friend,
My approved friend, Romont, I gave no credit
To the reporter, but reproved him for it,
As one uncourtly, and malicious to him.
What could I more, my lords? Yet, after this,
He did continue in his first pursuit,
Hotter than ever, and at length obtained it;
But, how it came to my most certain knowledge,
For the dignity of the court, and my own honour,
I dare not say.
Nov. sen. If all may be believed
A passionate prisoner speaks, who is so foolish
That durst be wicked, that will appear guilty?
No, my grave lords; in his impunity,
But give example unto jealous men
To cut the throats they hate, and they will never
Want matter or pretence for their bad ends.
Charmi. You must find other proofs, to strengthen these
But mere presumptions.
Du Croy. Or we shall hardly
Allow your innocence.
Charal. All your attempts
Shall fall on me like brittle shafts on armour,
That break themselves; or waves against a rock,
That leave no signs of their ridiculous fury
But foam and splinters: my innocence, like these,
Shall stand triumphant, and your malice serve
But for a trumpet to proclaim my conquest;
Nor shall you, though you do the worst fate can,
Howe'er condemn, affright an honest man.
Rom. May it please the court, I may be heard?
Nov. sen. You come not
To rail again? but do—you shall not find
Another Rochfort.
Rom. In Novall I cannot;
But I come furnishèd with what will stop
The mouth of his conspiracy 'gainst the life
Of innocent Charalois. Do you know this character?
Nov. sen. Yes, 'tis my son's.
Rom. May it please your lordships, read it:
And you shall find there, with what vehemency
He did solicit Beaumelle; how he had got
A promise from her to enjoy his wishes;
How after, he abjured her company,
And yet—but that 'tis fit I spare the dead—
Like a damned villain, as soon as recorded,
He brake that oath:—to make this manifest,
Produce his bawds and hers.
Enter Officers with AYMER, FLORIMEL, and BELLAPERT,
Charmi. Have they took their oaths?
Rom. They have, and, rather than endure the rack,
Confess the time, the meeting, nay, the act;
What would you more? only this matron made
A free discovery to a good end;
And therefore I sue to the court, she may not
Be placed in the black list of the delinquents.
Pont. [Aside.] I see by this, Novall's revenge needs me,
And I shall do_____
Charmi. 'Tis evident.
Nov. sen. That I
Till now was never wretched: here's no place
To curse him or my stars. [Exit.
Charmi. Lord Charalois,
The injuries you have sustained appear
So worthy of the mercy of the court
That, notwithstanding you have gone beyond
The letter of the law, they yet acquit you.
Pont. But, in Novall, I do condemn him—thus.
[Stabs him.
Charal. I am slain.
Rom. Can I look on? O, murderous wretch!
Thy challenge now I answer. So! die with him.
[Stabs PONTALIER.
Charmi. A guard! disarm him.
Rom. I yield up my sword
Unforced—O, Charalois!
Charal. For shame, Romont,
Mourn not for him that dies as he hath lived,
Still constant and unmoved: what's fallen upon me,
Is by Heaven's will, because I made myself
A judge in my own cause, without their warrant;
But He that lets me know thus much in death,
With all good men—forgive me! [Dies.
Pont. I receive
The vengeance which my love, not built on virtue,
Has made me worthy, worthy of. [Dies.
Charmi. We are taught
By this sad precedent, how just soever
Our reasons are to remedy our wrongs,
We are yet to leave them to their will and power
That, to that purpose, have authority.
For you, Romont, although, in your excuse,
You may plead what you did was in revenge
Of the dishonour done unto the court,
Yet, since from us you had not warrant for it,
We banish you the state. For these, they shall,
As they are found guilty or innocent,
Be or set free, or suffer punishment. [Exeunt.
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