Act V
+Scene.+--+Don Carlos's+ house.
_Enter +Diego+, +Flora+, and +Pedro+, accompanying the chair, groping as in the dark._
+Ped.+ Dame Flora and Signior Diego, go in there; and you, my friends, set down the chair, and let the lady out; go, there's money for you. I'll go fetch a candle.
[_+Diego+ and +Flora+ go in, and the chair being set in the door, +Octavio+ goes out into the room: +Pedro+ claps to the door, and goes away._
Enter +Don Octavio+, +Diego+, +Flora+, at another door.
+Don O.+ What! put in all alone here i' th' dark, [Groping as in the dark. And the door shut upon me! Diego! Flora!
+Diego.+ Here am I, sir, and Mistress Flora too, Unless my sense of feeling fails me.
+Don O.+ I can't conjecture where we are. I durst not So much as peep out of the chair since Flora Gave me the warning; but, where'er I am, 'Tis better far than in the sergeants' hands.
+Flo.+ Though now i' th' dark, I know well where we are. I have too often walk'd the streets, Octavio, From your house hither, upon Cupid's errands, Not to know the back-door of Carlos his Apartment: 'tis there, I'm sure, w' are now.
+Don O.+ Curse on thee, Flora! hadst thou lost thy wits, Not to let me know it sooner?
+Diego.+ A gipsy told me by my palm, long since, A sour-fac'd damsel should be my undoing.
+Flo.+ Suspend awhile your apprehensions, sir; You may escape before the candles come. The door was wont to open on this side; If not, I have another way in store. [+Octavio+ goes to the door.
+Don O.+ Flora, I cannot make the lock go back.
[_+Pedro+ unlocks it on the other side, and coming in with a candle, meets with +Octavio+, and starting back and stumbling, lets the candle fall, then running out again, double-locks the door._
+Diego.+ Nay then, i' faith, w' are fast: I heard him give The key a double turn. [+Diego+ takes up the candle. Here's a fair trial for your maiden breath! Flora, blow't in again; let's owe your mouth More light than yet your eyes could e'er impart.
+Flo.+ Light's cast away on such an owl as you; But yet I'll try. [+Flora+ blows the candle in.
+Diego.+ Thanks, gentle Flora, to your virgin puff; 'Tis a strong breath that can o'ercome a snuff. [Aside. But I had rather't had been let alone: If I must needs be kill'd, unless it were Behind my back, I'd have it i' th' dark; For I hate to be kill'd in my own presence.
+Don O.+ What must we do, Flora I all my hope's in you.
+Flo.+ W' have yet some room for hope. There's a back-stairs Beyond that inner chamber, which goes down Into the garden: if the door be open, As certainly it is, the way is easy.
+Don O.+ Come, let's lose no time. Prythee, guide us, Flora. [Exeunt.
_Scene changes to +Don Henrique's+ house. Enter +Don Henrique+._
+Don H.+ As well pleas'd as I am to find my honour Less desperate than I thought, I cannot rest Till I have drawn from Porcia a confession Of the whole truth before she goes to bed. She's in her chamber now, unless by new Enchantments carried thence.
_As he is going towards +Porcia's+ chamber, enter +Don Carlos+ in haste._
+Don O.+ I can't imagine what should make Don Henrique Quit the corregidor's till we return'd: One of his servants tells me he's come home. O, here he is, Now shall I raise a storm Which (if we do not take a special care) Will scarce b' allay'd without a shower of blood; Yet I must venture't, since it so imports Our friendship and the honour of our house. [Aside. Happiness is such a stranger to mankind [Addressing to +Don Henrique+. That, like to forc'd motion, it is ever strongest At the first setting out; then languishing With time, grows weary of our company: But to misfortunes we so subject are, That, like to natural motion, they acquire More force in their progression.
+Don H.+ What means this philosophical preamble?
+Don C.+ You'll know too soon, I fear.
+Don H.+ Don Carlos, I am so well recover'd From all m' inquietudes, that for the future I dare defy the malice of my stars To cause a new relapse into distemper.
+Don C.+ Cousin, I'm much surpris'd with this great change: But since y' are such a master of your passions, I'll spare my ethics, and proceed to give you In short the narrative of our success. Our worthy kinsman the corregidor, Forward to serve you in th' affair I mention'd, Was pleas'd to go along with me in person With a strong band of sergeants to the place Where I, attended by your servants, led him. Cousin, 'twas there;--it wounds my heart to speak it, And I conjure you summon all your patience-- 'Twas there I found----
+Don H.+ Whom, cousin, did you find? for since I'm sure You found no Porcia there, my concernments In your discoveries are not very likely To discompose me.
+Don C.+ I would to heaven we had not found her there!
+Don H.+ What's that you say, Don Carlos? My sister there?
+Don C.+ Yes, sir, your sister.
+Don H.+ My sister? that's good, i' faith; ha, ha, ha!
+Don C.+ Why do you laugh! Is the dishonour of Our family becoming a laughing matter? This is a worse extreme, methinks, than t'other.
+Don H.+ How can I choose but laugh, to see you dream? Awake, for heaven's sake, and recall your senses. Porcia there, said you?
+Don C.+ Yes, sir, Porcia, I say; your sister Porcia; And, which is more, 'twas in Octavio's house.
+Don H.+ Why, sure, y' are not in earnest, cousin?
+Don C.+ As sure as y' are alive, I found her there.
+Don H.+ Then you transport me, sir, beyond all patience. Why, cousin, if she has been still at home, Antonio seen and entertain'd her here, Accompani'd by Camilla; if even now I left them there within, is't possible You should have found her in Octavio's house? To be here and there too at the same time! None, sure, but Janus with his double face Can e'er unfold this mystery.
+Don C.+ Let me advise you, abuse not yourself; I tell you positive'y, I found her there: And, by the same token, her waiting-woman Flora was there attending her.
+Don H.+ Flora! Dear cousin, do not still persist Thus to affirm impossibilities.
+Don C.+ Sure, you are making some experiment Upon my temper, and would fain provoke My patience to some such high disorder, That I should ne'er hereafter have the face, When you are in your fits, to play the stoic.
+Don H.+ Cousin, I swear to you upon my honour, 'Tis not above a quarter of an hour Since I did speak with Porcia and your sister In that very apartment, and am now Returning to them in my sister's chamber.
+Don C.+ And, sir, I swear to you upon my honour, 'Tis not above a quarter of an hour, Since I left Porcia carrying in a chair From Don Octavio's house, and your man Pedro Leading the chairmen to mine, and follow'd By Flora; whilst I came to find you out, To acquaint you with this unpleasing news, But fit for you to know as soon as might be.
+Don H.+ This question, cousin, may be soon decided: Pray, come along, her chamber's not far off.
+Don C.+ And my house but the next door; let's go thither.
+Don H.+ You'll quickly find your error, cousin.
+Don C.+ And you'll as soon be undeceiv'd. But stay: Here comes your servant, whom I left to guard her: He'll instantly convince you of the truth.
Enter +Pedro+.
+Ped.+ O sir!----
+Don H.+ What brings yon hither, Pedro?
+Ped.+ Give me my albricias,[69] sir; I bring you The rarest news: your enemy Octavio-- I'm quite out of breath----
+Don H.+ What does the varlet mean?
+Ped.+ Sir, I suppose Don Carlos has inform'd you That he left me to see your sister Porcia, With Flora and Diego, Oetavio's man, Safely convey'd t' his house.
+Don C.+ See now, Don Henrique: who was i' the right!
+Ped.+ I did as he commanded me, and put them All three into Don Carlos's antechamber, Porcia in the same chair which brought her thither, And for more safety, double-lock'd the door, Whilst I went down in haste to fetch some candles.
+Don H.+ As sure as death, this madness is infectious; My man is now in one of Carlos's fits.
+Ped.+ Returning with some lights a moment after, I no sooner open'd the door, but, heavens! Who should I see there, standing just before me, In the selfsame place where I had left Porcia, But Octavio, your enemy Octavio.
+Don H.+ Here is some witchcraft, sure. What can this mean?
+Ped.+ Amaz'd at this sight, I let the candle fall, And clapp'd the door to; then double-lock'd it, And brought away the key.
+Don C.+ But how could he get in, if you be sure You lock'd the door when you went out for lights?
+Ped.+ I know not whether he was there before, Or got in after; but of this I'm sure, That there I have him now, and safe enough.
+Don H.+ Let's not, Don Carlos, now perplex ourselves With needless circumstances, when and how; Those queries are too phlegmatic for me: If the beast be i' th' toil, it is enough; Let us go seize him, for he must die.
Enter +Don Antonio+.
+Don A.+ Pray, brother, what unhappy man is he Whom you so positively doom to death? I have a sword to serve you on all occasions Worthy of you and me.
+Don H.+ His intervening, Carlos, is unlucky. How shall we behave ourselves towards him In this business, so unfit for his knowledge?
+Don C.+ Cousin, you should consider with yourself [+Carlos+ draws +Henrique+ aside. What answer to return him: he's not a man To be put off with any slight pretences; Nor yet to be engag'd in such an action As bears th' appearance rather of brutality Than true honour. You know Antonio needs No fresh occasions to support his name. Who danger seek, are indigent of fame.
+Don H.+ I beg your patience, sir, but for one word With this gentleman my friend.
[+Don Henrique+ addresses himself to +Don Antonio+.
+Don A.+ I'll attend your leisure. I find my coming has disorder'd 'em, [Aside. There's something they would fain conceal from me: All here is discompos'd, whate'er's the matter.
+Don H.+ I am a rogue, if I know what to do.
+Don C.+ Since the event's so dangerous and doubtful, 'Tis best, in my opinion, sir, to temporise.
+Don H.+ How easily men get the name of wise! To fear t' engage, is call'd to temporise: Sure, fear and courage cannot be the same, Yet th' are confounded by a specious name; And I must tamely suffer, because fools Are rul'd by nice distinctions of the schools. How I hate such cold complexions! [He stamps.
+Don C.+ Why so transported? as if vehemence Were for your passion an approv'd defence.
+Don H.+ Who condemns passions, Nature he arraigns.
+Don C.+ Th' are useful succours, when they serve in chains: But he who throws the bridle on their necks, From a good cause will produce ill effects.
+Don H.+ Be th' effects what they will, I am resolv'd. I doubt not of your kind concurrence, sir, [Addressing to +Don Antonio+. In all the near concernments of a person Allied to you as I am; but, noble brother, It were against the laws of hospitality And civil breeding to engage a guest (Newly arriv'd after so long a journey) In an occasion where there may be danger.
+Don A.+ If such be the occasion, I must then Acquaint you freely, that I wear a sword, Which must not be excluded from your service. I'm sure you are too noble to employ yours In any cause not justifi'd by honour.
+Don H.+ Though with regret, I see, sir, I must yield To your excess of generosity, This only I shall say to satisfy Your just reflections, that my resentments Are grounded on affronts of such a nature That, as nothing but the offender's life Can e'er repair 'em, so, as to the forms Of taking my revenge, they can't admit Of the least scruple.
+Don A.+ Honour's my standard, and 'tis true that I Had rather fall, than blush for victory; But you are such a judge of honour's laws, That 'twere injurious to suspect your cause. Allow me, sir, th' honour to lead the way. [Exeunt +Don Antonio+ and +Don Henrique+.
+Don C.+ If Porcia be there too (as I believe) 'Twill prove, I fear, a fatal tragedy; But should she not be there, yet 'tis too much For such a heart as mine, through ignorance To have betray'd a gentleman, though faulty, Into such cruel hands. I must go with them; But so resolv'd as, in this bloody strife, I'll salve my honour, or I'll lose my life. [Exit.
_Scene changes to +Don Carlos's+ house. Enter +Don Octavio+, +Diego+, and +Flora+ with a candle._
+Flo.+ O th' unluckiness! I vow t' you, sir, I have scarce known that door e'er lock'd before.
+Don O.+ There's no remedy, Flora: I am now At the mercy of my enemies.
+Diego.+ Having broken into another's ground, 'Tis just, i' faith, you should be put i' th' pound.
+Don O.+ The tide of my ill fate is swoll'n so high, 'Twill not admit increase of misery; Since, amongst all the curses, there is none So wounds the spirit as privation: For 'tis not where we lie, but whence we fell; The loss of heaven's the greatest pain in hell. When I had sail'd the doubtful course of love, Had safely gain'd my port, and (far above My hopes) the precious treasure had secured For which so many storms I had endur'd: To be so soon from this great blessing torn, That's hard to say, if 'twere first dead or born, May doubtless seem such a transcendent curse, That even the Fates themselves could do no worse: Yet this I bore with an erected face. Since fortune, not my fault, caus'd my disgrace; But now my eyes unto the earth are bent, Conscious of meriting this punishment: For trusting a fond maid's officious care, My life and honour's taken in this snare; And thus I perish on this unseen shelf, Pursu'd by fate, and false unto myself. Flora, when I am dead, I pray present [He pulls out his tablets. These tablets to your lady; there she'll find My last request, with reasons which I give, That for my sake she would vouchsafe to live. Give me the candle, Flora.
[+Octavio+ sets the candle on a table, and sits down to write in his tablets.
+Diego.+ A double curse upon all love in earnest, All constant love: 'tis still accompanied With strange disasters, or else ends in that Which is the worst of all disasters--marriage.
+Flo.+ Sure, you could wish that everybody living Had such a soul of quicksilver as yours, That can fix nowhere.
+Diego.+ Why' 'twould not be the worse for you, dear Flora; You then might hope in time to have your turn, As well as those who have much better faces.
+Flo.+ You, I presume, sir, would be one o' th' latest, Which I should hear of; yet 'tis possible That one might see you before you should be Welcome.
+Diego.+ She has wit and good-humour, excellent Ingredients to pass away the time; And I have kindness for her person too; But that will end with marriage, and possibly Her good-humour; for I have seldom known The husband and the wife make any music, Though when asunder they can play their parts. Well, friend Diego, I advise you to look Before you leap, for if you should be coupled To a yoke, instead of a yoke-fellow, 'Tis likely you may wear it to your grave. Yet, honest Diego, now I think on't better, Your dancing and your vaulting days are done: Faith, all your pleasures are three storeys high, They are come up to your mouth; you are now For ease and eating, the only joys of life; And there's no cook, no dry-nurse, like a wife.
+Don O.+ Here, take my tablets, Flora: sure, they'll spare Thy life for thy sex's sake; but for poor Diego----
+Diego.+ Why, sir, they'll never offer to kill me? There's nothing in the world I hate like death.
+Don O.+ Since death's the passage to eternity, To be for ever happy we must die.
+Diego.+ 'Tis very true; but most that die would live, If to themselves they could new leases give.
+Don O.+ We must possess our souls with such indifference, As not to wish nor fear to part from hence.
+Diego.+ The first I may pretend to, for I swear I do not wish to part: 'tis true, I fear.
+Don O.+ Fear! why, death's only cruel when she flies, And will not deign to close the weeping eyes.
+Diego.+ That is a cruelty I can forgive, For I confess I'm not afraid to live.
+Don O.+ We shall still live, though 'tis by others' breath-- By our good fame, which is secur'd by death.
+Diego.+ But we shall catch such colds, sir, under ground, That we shall never hear Fame's trumpet sound.
+Don O.+ 'Tis but returning, when from hence we go, As rivers to their mother-ocean flow.
+Diego.+ We know our names and channels whilst w' are here; W' are swallow'd in that dark abyss when there.
+Don O.+ Engulf'd in endless joys and perfect rest, Unchangeable, i' th' centre of the bless'd.
+Diego.+ Hark, I hear a noise--
[_The noise of the opening of a door. +Diego+ runs to the door, looks into the next room, then comes running to +Octavio+._
+Diego.+ O sir, w' are lost! I sea two female giants Coming most terribly upon us.
+Don O.+ Away, you fearful fool----
_Enter +Camilla+ and +Porcia+, the one with a key, the other with a candle._
+Por.+ I'm confident nobody saw us pass From th' other house.
+Cam.+ However, let us go through my brother's quarter, And open the back-door into the street; 'Tis good in all events t' have a retreat More ways than one. [A door claps behind, and both look back.
+Por.+ O heavens, our passage is cut off! The wind has shut the door through which we came.
+Cam.+ The accident's unlucky: 'tis a spring lock, That opens only on the other side.
+Por.+ Let's on the faster, and make sure of th' other-- [Seeing +Octavio+, she starts. Octavio here! [+Octavio+ hearing them, starts up.
+Don O.+ Porcia in this place! may I trust my senses, Or does my fancy form these chimeras?
+Diego.+ Either we sleep, and dream extravagantly, Or else the fairies govern in this house. [+Flora+ runs to +Porcia+.
+Flo.+ Ah, dearest mistress! you shall never make me Quit you so again.
+Por.+ But can that be Octavio?
+Don O.+ I was Octavio; but I am at present So much astonish'd, I am not myself.
+Cam.+ What can the meaning of this vision be? [+Don Octavio+ approaches +Porcia+.
+Don O.+ My dearest Porcia, how is't possible To find you in this place, my friend Antonio Having so generously undertaken Your protection?
+Por.+ Did he not yours so too? and yet I find Octavio here, where he is more expos'd Than I to certain ruin. I am loth To say 'tis he who has betray'd us both.
+Don O.+ Antonio false? It is impossible.
+Diego.+ 'Tis but too evident.
+Don O.+ Peace, slave! he is my noble friend, of noble blood, Whose fame's above the level of those tongues That bark by custom at the brightest virtues, As dogs do at the moon.
+Por.+ How hard it is for virtue to suspect! Ah, Octavio! we have been both deceiv'd. This vile Antonio is the very man To whom my brother without my consent Or knowledge has contracted me in Flanders.
+Don O.+ Antonio the man to whom you are contracted? Porcia the bride whom he is come to marry?
+Por.+ The very same.
+Don O.+ Why did you not acquaint me with it sooner?
+Por.+ Alas! I have not seen you since I knew it; But those few hours such wonders have produc'd As exceed all belief, and ask more time Than your unsafe condition in this place Will allow me to make you comprehend it.
+Cam.+ Cousin, I cannot blame your apprehensions, Nor your suspicion of Antonio's friendship; But I am so possess'd with the opinion Of his virtue, I shall as soon believe Impossibilities as his apostasy From honour.
+Don O.+ What's her concernment in Antonio, Porcia?
+Por.+ O, that's the strangest part of our sad story, And which requires most time to let you know it [A blaze of light appears at the window, and a noise without. See, Flora, at the window, what's that light And noise we hear. [+Flora+ goes to the window.
+Flo.+ O madam, we are all undone! I see Henrique, Carlos, and their servants, with torches All coming hither; and, which is wonderful, Antonio leading them with his sword drawn.
+Cam.+ Thou dream'st, distracted wench? Antonio false? It is impossible----
[+Camilla+ runs to the window, and turning back, says--
All she has said is in appearance true. There is some hidden mystery, which thus Abuses us; for I shall ne'er believe Antonio can transgress the rules of friendship.
+Don O.+ Friendship's a specious name, made to deceive Those whose good-nature tempts them to believe: The traffic of good offices 'mongst friends Moves from ourselves, and in ourselves it ends: When competition brings us to the test, Then we find friendship is self-interest.
+Por.+ Ye pow'rs above! what pleasure can ye take To persecute submitting innocence?
+Don O.+ Retire, dear Porcia, to that inner room: For should thy cruel brother find thee here, He's so revolted from humanity, He'll mingle thine with my impurer blood.
+Por.+ That were a kind of contract. Let him come, We'll meet at once marriage and martyrdom.
+Don O.+ Soul of my life, retire.
+Por.+ I will not leave you.
+Don O.+ Thou preserv'st me by saving of thyself: For they can murder only half of me, Whilst that my better part survives in thee.
+Por.+ I will die too, Octavio, to maintain That different causes form the same effects: 'Tis courage in you men, love in our sex.
+Don O.+ Though souls no sexes have, when w' are above, If we can know each other, we may love.
+Por.+ I'll meet you there above: here take my word. [+Don Octavio+ takes her hand and kisses it. This Porcia knows the way of joining souls, As well as th' other, when she swallow'd coals.
[_They retire to the other room, +Porcia+ leaning on +Camilla+, and +Octavio+ waits on them to the door._
+Diego.+ Nay, if y' are good at that, the devil take The hindmost. 'Tis for your sake, fair Flora, [Taking +Flora+ by the hand. I shun these honourable occasions. Having no weapon, sir, 'tis fit that I March off with the baggage.
[Turning to +Don Octavio+. Exeunt +Diego+ and +Flora+.
+Don O.+ I'm now upon the frontiers of this life, There's but one step to immortality; And, since my cruel fortune has allow'd me No other witness of my tragic end But a false friend and barbarous enemy, I'll leave my genius to inform the world My life and death was uniform: as I Liv'd firm to love and honour, so I die. [Draws his sword. Look down, ye spirits above; for if there be A sight on earth worthy of you to see, 'Tis a brave man, pursu'd by unjust hate, Bravely contending with his adverse fate. [Waving his sword. Stay till this heaven-born soul puts off her earth, And she'll attend ye to her place of birth.
_Enter +Don Antonio+, +Don Henrique+, +Don Carlos+, and +Pedro+, their swords drawn; +Don Antonio+ before the rest._
+Don A.+ Where is the man whose insolence and folly Has so misled him to affront my friend?
+Don O.+ Here is the man thou seek'st, and he whom thou So basely hast betray'd.
+Don A.+ O heavens! what is't I see? It is Octavio, My friend.
+Don O.+ Not thy friend, Antonio, but 'tis Octavio, Who by thy perfidy has been betray'd To this forlorn condition; but, vile man, Thou now shalt pay thy treachery with thy life. [+Don Octavio+ makes at +Don Antonio+.
+Don A.+ Hold, Octavio! though thy injurious error May transport thee, it shall not me, beyond The bounds of honour. Heaven knows I thought Of nothing less than what I find--Octavio In this place.
+Don H.+ What pause is this, Antonio? All your fervour In the concernments of a brother-in-law Reduc'd to a tame parley with our enemy? Do all the promises you have made to me, T' assist my just revenge, conclude in this?
+Don O.+ Do all the promises you have made to me, T' assist my virtuous love, conclude in this?
+Don H.+ Where is your wonted bravery? Where your kindness to such a near ally?
+Don O.+ Where is your former honour? where your firmness To such an ancient friend?
+Don A.+ What course shall my distracted honour steer, Betwixt these equal opposite engagements? [Aside.
+Don H.+ What, demur still? nay, then I'll right myself.
[+Don Henrique+ makes at +Don Octavio+; +Don Antonio+ turns on +Don Octavio's+ side.
+Don A.+ Who attacks Octavio must pass through me.
+Don C.+ I must lay hold on this occasion. [Aside. Good cousin, I conjure you to restrain Your passion for awhile. There lies conceal'd Some mystery in this which, once unfolded, May reconcile this difference.
+Don H.+ Sweetly propos'd, sir; an accommodation! Think'st thou my anger's like a fire of straw, Only to blaze and then expire in smoke? Think'st thou I can forget my name and nation, And barter for revenge, when honour bleeds? His life must pay this insolence, or mine. [He makes at +Don Octavio+ again; +Don Antonio+ interposes.
+Don A.+ Mine must protect his, or else perish with him.
+Don H.+ Since neither faith nor friendship can prevail, 'Tis time to try what proof you are, Antonio, Against your own near interest. Know that the man, Whom you protect against my just revenge, Has seconded his insolence to me By foul attempts upon my sister's honour, Your Porcia's, sir. If this will not inflame you----
[+Don Antonio+ turns from +Don Octavio+ and beholds him with a stern countenance.
+Don O.+ How! I attempt your sister's honour, Henrique? [+Don Antonio+ turns and looks sternly upon +Don Henrique+. The parent of your black designs, the devil, Did ne'er invent a more malicious falsehood; 'Tis true that I have serv'd the virtuous Porcia With such devotion and such spotless love, That, though unworthy, yet she has been pleas'd To recompense my passion with esteem;
[+Don Antonio+ turns and looks sternly upon +Don Octavio+.
By which she has so chain'd me to her service, That here I vow either to live her prize, Or else in death to fall love's sacrifice.
+Don A.+ O heavens! what's that I hear? Thou blessed angel, Guardian of my honour, I now implore Thy powerful assistance, to preserve That reputation which I hitherto By virtuous actions have maintain'd unblemish'd. In vain, Don Henrique, you design to change [He pauses a little, and rubs his forehead. My resolutions: it must ne'er be said That passion could return Antonio From the strict rules of honour. Sir, I tell you, Nothing can make me violate my first Engagement.
+Don H.+ Nay, then, thou shalt die too, perfidious man. Ho! Geraldo, Pedro, Leonido!
_Enter +Geraldo+, +Pedro+, and +Leonido+, with their swords drawn; they join with +Don Henrique+; +Don Carlos+ interposes._
+Don C.+ For heaven's sake, cousin, draw not on yourself The horrid infamy of assassinating Persons of noble blood by servile hands!
+Don H.+ Do you defend them too? Kill 'em, I say.
+Don A.+ Retire, Octavio, I'll sustain their shock.
+Don O.+ Octavio retire!
+Don A.+ Trust me, you must, they will surround us else; Through that narrow passage they'll assail us With less advantage.
[_They retire, fighting, off the stage, +Don Henrique+ and his men pursuing them, and +Don Carlos+ endeavouring to stop +Don Henrique.+_
+Don H.+ What, d'ye give back, ye mighty men of fame?
+Don A.+ Don Henrique, you shall quickly find 'tis honour, Not fear, makes me retire. [Exeunt.
_Enter presently +Don Antonio+ and +Don Octavio+ at another door, which +Don Antonio+ bolts._
+Don A.+ Now we shall have a breathing while at least, Octavio, and time to look about us. Pray, see yon other door be fast.
[_+Don Octavio+ steps to the door where they went out, and +Don Henrique+ bounces at the door they came in at._
+Don H.+ Geraldo, fetch an iron bar to force The door.
[Within, aloud. +Don Antonio+ goes to both the doors, to see if they be fast.
+Don A.+ So, 'tis now as I could wish it.
+Don O.+ What do you mean, generous Antonio?
+Don A.+ To kill thee now myself:--having perform'd What my engagement did exact from me In your defence 'gainst others, my love now Requires its dues, as honour has had his. There's no protection for you from my sword But in your own, or in your frank renouncing All claim to Porcia; she is so much mine, That none must breathe and have the vanity Of a pretension to her whilst I live.
+Don O.+ I never will renounce my claims to Porcia, But still assert them by all noble ways: Yet, sir, this hand shall never use a sword (Without the last compulsion) 'gainst that man Who has so much oblig'd me. No, Antonio, You are securely guarded by the favours Which you so frankly have conferr'd upon me.
+Don A.+ Pray, sir, let not your pretended gratitude Enervate your defence: 'tis not my custom To serve my friends with prospects of return.
+Don O.+ And, sir, 'tis not my custom to receive An obligation, but with a purpose, And within the power of my return. Friendship, Antonio, is reciprocal. He that will only give, and not receive, Enslaves the person whom he would relieve.
+Don A.+ Your rule is right; but you apply it wrong. It was Octavio, my camerade in arms And ancient friend, whom I design'd to serve; Not that disloyal man who has invaded My honour and my love. 'Tis the intent Which forms the obligation, not th' event.
+Don O.+ I call those pow'rs, which both discern and punish, To witness for me that I never knew You e'er pretended to Don Henrique's sister, Before I came within these fatal walls: This I declare only to clear myself From th' imputation of disloyalty, And to prevent the progress of your error.
+Don A.+ How can I think you should speak truth to me Who am a witness y' have been false to her, To whom you now profess so high devotion?
+Don O.+ I false to Porcia! take heed, Antonio, So foul an injury provokes too much. But, sir, I must confess I owe you more Than the forgiveness of one gross mistake.
+Don A.+ Rare impudence! I must not trust my senses.
+Don O.+ If we cannot adjust this competition, Let's charge our envious fortunes, not our passions, With this fatal breach of friendship.
+Don A.+ Leave your discourses, and defend yourself; Either immediately renounce all claims To Porcia, or this must speak the rest. [Shaking his sword.
+Don O.+ Nay, then I must reply.
[They fight. A noise, as if the door were broken open.
_Enter +Don Henrique+, +Don Carlos+, +Leonido+, and +Geraldo+, with their swords drawn._
+Don H.+ What's this! Antonio fighting with Octavio? This bravery is excessive, gallant friend, Not to allow a share in your revenge To him who's most concern'd: he must not fall Without some marks of mine.
[+Don Henrique+ makes at +Don Octavio+, and +Don Antonio+ turns to +Don Octavio's+ side.
+Don A.+ Nay, then my honour you invade anew, And, by assaulting him, revive in me My pre-engagements to protect and serve him Against all others.
+Don H.+ Why, were not you, Antonio, fighting with him? Were you not doing all you could to kill him?
+Don A.+ Henrique, 'tis true; but finding in my breast An equal strife 'twixt honour and revenge, I do, in just compliance with them both, Preserve him from your sword, to fall by mine.
+Don C.+ Brave man, how nicely he does honour weigh! Justice herself holds not the scales more even.
+Don H.+ My honour suffers more as yet than yours, And I must have a share in the revenge.
+Don A.+ My honour, sir, is so sublim'd by love, 'Twill not admit comparison or rival.
+Don H.+ Either he must renounce all claims to Porcia, Or die immediately.
+Don A.+ Y' are i' the right: that he must do, or die; But by no other hand than mine.
+Don O.+ Cease your contention, and turn all your swords Against this breast! whilst Porcia and I have breath, She must be mine, there's no divorce but death.
+Don H.+ I'll hear no more, protect him if thou canst: Kill the slave, kill him, I say!
[+Don Henrique+ makes at him, and +Don Carlos+ endeavours to interpose.
+Don C.+ For heaven's sake, hold a moment! certainly There's some mistake lies hidden here, which (clear'd) Might hinder these extremes.
[_+Don Henrique+ and his servants press +Don Antonio+ and +Don Octavio+. +Flora+ peeps out, and, seeing them fight, cries out_ Camilla! Porcia! _+Camilla+ and +Porcia+ looking out, both shriek, and then run out upon the stage._
Enter +Porcia+ and +Camilla+ from the inner room.
+Por.+ Don Henrique!
+Cam.+ Antonio! Carlos!
+Por.+ Octavio!
+Cam.+ and +Por.+ together. Hear us but speak! hear us but speak!
+Don H.+ By heavens, 'tis Porcia! why, how came she here?
+Don C.+ Why, did not I tell you she was brought hither By my directions? you would not believe me.
+Don H.+ But how then could Octavio come hither?
+Don C.+ Nay, that heaven knows, you heard as well as I Your man's relation.
+Don H.+ Ah, thou vile woman, that I could destroy Thy memory with thy life!
[He offers to run at +Porcia+: +Don Antonio+ interposes.
+Don A.+ Hold, sir, that must not be!
+Don H.+ What, may not I do justice upon her Neither?
+Don A.+ No, sir: although I have not yet the honour To know who this lady is, I have this night Engag'd myself both to secure and serve her.
+Don C.+ He knows not Porcia. Who was i' the right, Don Henrique, you or I?
+Don H.+ He not know Porcia! why, 'tis not an hour Since I saw him entertaining her at home, Sure w' are enchanted, and all we see's illusion.
+Cam.+ Allow me, Henrique, to unspell these charms. Who is't, Octavio, you pretend to? speak.
+Don O.+ You might have spar'd that question, madam: none Knows so well as you, 'tis Porcia I adore.
+Don A.+ Porcia's my wife! disloyal man, thou diest. [Offers to make at +Don Octavio+.
+Cam.+ Hold, sir! which is the Porcia you lay claim to?
+Don A.+ Can you doubt of that? why, sure, you know too well The conquest that you made so long ago[70] Of my poor heart in Flanders.
+Don C.+ Conquest! poor heart! Flanders! what can this mean?
+Don H.+ New riddles every moment do arise, And mysteries are born of mysteries.
+Don C.+ Sure, 'tis the pastime of the destinies To mock us for pretending to be wise.
+Cam.+ Thanks be to heaven, our work draws near an end. Cousin, it belongs to you to finish it.
+Por.+ To free you from that labyrinth, Antonio, In which a slight mistake, not rectifi'd, Involv'd us all, know the suppos'd Porcia, Whom you have lov'd, is the true Camilla.
+Cam.+ And you, Don Henrique, know that Don Octavio Has always been your sister's faithful lover, And only feign'd a gallantry to me To hide his real passion for my cousin From your discerning eyes.
+Don A.+ Generous Octavio!
+Don O.+ Brave Antonio! how happy are we both. [They embrace. Both in our loves and friendships!
+Don A.+ Ah, how the memory of our crosses pass'd Heightens our joys when we succeed at last!
+Don O.+ Our pleasures in this world are always mix'd: 'Tis in the next where all our joys are fix'd.
[+Camilla+ takes +Don Antonio+ by the hand, and leads him to +Don Carlos+.
+Cam.+ This, my dear brother, is that brave commander To whom you owe your life and liberty; And I much more--the safety of my honour.
+Don C.+ Is this that gallant leader who redeem'd us With so much valour from the enemy?
+Cam.+ The very same.
+Don C.+ Why did you not acquaint me with it sooner? 'Twas ill done, Camilla.
+Cam.+ Alas! my dearest brother, gratitude, [Drawing +Don Carlos+ aside. Conspiring with the graces of his person, So soon possess'd him of my heart, that I, Asham'd of such a visionary love, Durst never trust my tongue with my own thoughts.
+Don C.+ 'Tis enough. Here, sir, take from me her hand, [Addressing to +Don Antonio+. Whose heart your merit has long since made yours. [+Don Antonio+ takes +Camilla's+ hand and kisses it.
+Don A.+ Sir, with your leave and hers, I seal the vows Of my eternal faith unto you both.
+Don C.+ But let's take heed, Antonio, lest, whilst we Are joying in our mutual happiness, Don Henrique's scarcely yet composed distemper Revive not, and disorder us afresh: I like not his grim posture.
+Don A.+ 'Tis well thought on; let's approach him.
[+Don Octavio+, holding +Porcia+ by the hand, advances towards +Don Henrique+.
+Don O.+ Here with respect we wait your confirmation Of that which seems to be decreed above, Though travers'd by unlucky accidents. This lady, your incomparable sister, Can witness that I never did invade Your passion for Camilla; and Pedro's death Happen'd by your mistaken jealousy. The causes of your hate being once remov'd, 'Tis just. Don Henrique, the effects should cease.
+Don H.+ I shall consult my honour----
+Don C.+ You cannot take a better councillor In this case than your own and sister's honour; What, to secure them both, could have been wish'd Beyond what fate has of itself produc'd?
+Don H.+ How hard it is to act upon constraint! That which I could have wish'd, I now would fly, Since 'tis obtruded by necessity. 'Tis fit that I consent, but yet I must Still seem displeas'd, that m' anger may seem just [Aside.
+Don A.+ Noble Don Henrique, you may reckon me To be as truly yours by this alliance, As if a brother's name subsisted still.
+Don H.+ Well, I must yield, I see, or worse will follow. [Aside. He is a fool who thinks by force or skill To turn the current of a woman's will: Since fair Camilla is Antonio's lot, I Porcia yield to Don Antonio's friend. Our strength and wisdom must submit to fate: Stripp'd of my love, I will put off my hate. Here take her hand, and may she make you, sir,
[+Don Henrique+ takes +Porcia+ by the hand, and gives her to +Don Octavio+.
Happier than she has done me.
+Diego+ and +Flora+ advance.
+Flo.+ Had e'er disorders such a rare come-off? Methinks 'twould make a fine plot for a play.
+Diego.+ Faith, Flora, I should have the worst of that; For, by the laws of comedy, 'twould be My lot to marry you.
+Don O.+ Well thought on, Diego, tho' 'tis spoke in jest: We cannot do a better thing in earnest Than to join these who seem to have been made For one another. What say'st thou to it, Flora?
+Flo.+ Troth, I have had so many frights this night, That I am e'en afraid to lie alone. [+Diego+ takes her by the hand.
+Diego.+ Give me thy hand, sweet Flora, 'tis a bargain, I promise thee, dear spouse, I'll do my best To make thee first repent this earnest jest.
+Flo.+ You may mistake: we have a certain way, By going halves, to match your foulest play.
+Don C.+ Since this last happy scene is in my house, You'll make collation with me, ere you part.
+Don A.+ and +Don O.+ Agreed, agreed, agreed!
+Don A.+ Thus end the strange Adventures of Five Hours, As sometimes blust'ring storms, in gentle showers.[71] [Addressing to the Pit.
+Don O.+ Thus, noble gallants, after blust'ring lives, You'll end as we have done, in taking wives.
+Diego.+ Hold, sirs, there's not an end as yet; for then Come your own brats and those of other men.
+Don H.+ Besides the cares of th' honour of your race Which, as you know, is my accursed case. [Addressing to the Boxes.
+Cam.+ You, ladies, whilst unmarried, tread on snares: Married, y' are cumber'd with domestic cares.
+Por.+ If handsome, y' are by fools and fame attack'd; If ugly, then by your own envy rack'd.
+Flo.+ We by unthrifty parents forc'd to serve, When fed are slaves, and when w' are free, we starve.
+Don C.+ Which put together, we must needs confess, This world is not the scene of happiness.
FOOTNOTES:
[69] A reward or gratuity given to one that brings good news.--Stevens's "Spanish Dictionary."
[70] All the copies have it so long ago, but Reed followed Dodsley in the absurd error of substituting some days ago.--Collier.
[71] Here the play ended until the third edition which, as has been already noticed, varies materially from those that preceded it. The third edition also omits the original epilogues at the theatre and at court, which, as they are worth preserving, are now inserted in a note.--Collier.
THE EPILOGUE.
+Diego+ comes stealing in, and is followed by +Henrique+, who stays at the door and listens.
+Diego.+ Come, gentlemen! Let the Dons and Monsieurs say what they will, For our parts, we are for Old England still. Here's a fine Play indeed, to lay the scene In three houses of the same town, O mean! Why, we have several plays, where I defy The devil to tell where the scene does lie: Sometimes in Greece, and then they make a step To Transylvania, thence at one leap To Greece again: this shows a ranging brain, Which scorns to be confined t' a town in Spain.
Then for the Plot.
The possible Adventures of Five Hours! A copious design! why, in some of ours Many of the adventures are impossible, Or, if to be achiev'd, no man can tell Within what time: this shows a rare invention, When the design's above your comprehension; Whilst here y' are treated with a romance-tale. And a plot cover'd with a Spanish veil.
As for the Style.
It is as easy as a proclamation, As if the play were penn'd for the whole nation. None of those thund'ring lines, which used to crack Our breaths, and set your wits upon the rack. Who can admire this piece, or think it good? There's not one line but may be understood.
The Raillery.
As innocent as if't had pass'd the test Of a full synod: not one bawdy jest! Nor any of those words of double sense, Which make the ladies, to show their innocence, Look so demure, whilst by a simp'ring smile The gallant shows he understands the style. But here you have a piece so subtly writ, Men must have wit themselves to find the wit. Faith, that's too much; therefore by my consent, We'll damn the play.
+Henrique.+ Think'st thou, impertinent, That these, who know the pangs of bringing forth [Pointing to the Pit. A living scene, should e'er destroy this birth? You ne'er can want such writers, who aspire To please the judges of that upper tier. The knowing are his peers, and for the rest Of the illiterate crowd (though finely dress'd), The author hopes he never gave them cause To think he'd waste his time for their applause. You then (most equal judges) freely give Your votes, whether this play should die or live.
THE EPILOGUE AT COURT.
We've pass'd the lords and commons, and are come At length, dread sir, to hear your final doom. 'Tis true your vassals, sir, may vote the laws. Their sanction comes from your divine applause. This shining circle then will all sit mute 'Till one pronounce from you Le Roi le veut.[72]
[72] These are the words still used by ancient usage whenever the royal assent is given to any bill that has passed through both Houses of Parliament.--Collier.
Epilogue
BY MR SMITH.
Our poet, gentlemen, thought to steal away, Hoping those wretched rhymes, i' th' end o' th' play, Might serve for epilogue; for truly he Takes epilogues for arrant bribery. H' observes your poet in our modern plays, Humbly showeth, and then as humbly prays; So that it can't be said, what they have writ Was without fear, though often without wit. He trusts (as ye say papists do) to merit; Leaves you (like quakers) to be mov'd by th' spirit. But since that epilogues are so much in vogue, Take this as prologue to the epilogue.
BY MR HARRIS.
Some, as soon as th' enter, we wish 'em gone, Taking their visit as a visitation: Yet when they go, there are certain grimaces (Which in plain English, is but making faces) That we, for manners' sake, to all allow. The poet's parting; don't rise, but smile and bow; And's back being turn'd, ye may take the liberty To turn him, and all h' has writ to raillery. Now, as I shall be sav'd, were I as you, I'd make no bones on't--why, 'tis but his due. A fop! in this brave, licentious age, To bring his musty morals on the stage? Rhyme us to reason, and our lives redress In metre, as Druids did the savages? Affront the freeborn vices of the nation? And bring dull virtue into reputation? Virtue! would any man of common sense Pretend to't? why, virtue now is impudence; And such another modest play would blast Our new stage, and put your palates out of taste. We told him, Sir, 'tis whisper'd in the pit This may be common sense, but 'tis not wit; That has a flaming spirit, and stirs the blood That's bawdry, said he, if rightly understood; Which our late poets make their chiefest tasks, As if they writ only to th' vizard-masks. Nor that poetic rage, which hectors heaven, Your writer's style, like's temper, 's grown more even; And he's afraid to shock their tender ears. Whose God, say they, 's the fiction of their fears; Your moral's to no purpose. He replied, Some men talk'd idly just before they died, And yet we heard them with respect. 'Twas all he said. Well, we may count him now as good as dead; And since ghosts have left walking, if you please, We'll let our virtuous poet rest in peace.
ALL MISTAKEN;
OR,
THE MAD COUPLE
EDITION.
_All Mistaken; Or The Mad Couple. A Comedy, Acted by His Majestyes Servants, at the Theatre Royal. Written by the Honorable James Howard, Esq.; London, Printed by H. Brugis, for James Magnes in Russel-street, neer the Piazza, in Covent-garden, 1672. 4º._
This play formed part of the collection as originally published by Dodsley in 1744, but was excluded from the second and third editions. In the copies of 1672 and 1744, the arrangement of the lines was found very irregular, and the metre correspondingly corrupt. In the present reprint the text has been, to a large extent, reconstructed.
Dramatis Personæ
+The Duke.+
+Ortellus+, next of kin to the Duke; of an ambitious and treacherous nature.
+Arbatus+, supposed brother to Artabella.
+Philidor+, a mad kinsman of the Duke's, in love with Mirida.
+Zoranzo+, the Duke's prisoner of war, in love with Amarissa.
+Pinguister+, } +Lean-man+, } two ridiculous lovers of Mirida.
Doctor to Pinguister.
Tailor to Lean-man.
Jailor.
Servant to Philidor.
Boy.
Clown.
Guard and attendances.
+Amphelia+, in love with the Duke.
+Artabella+, the Duke's sister, but taken for the sister of Arbatus.
+Mirida+, Philador's mad mistress.
+Amarissa+, in love with Zoranzo.
Six Ladies.
Three Nurses with children.
Scene, Italy.
ALL MISTAKEN.
I. , SCENE I
_Enter +Duke+ from war, in triumph, leading in his hand +Artabella+, a woman of that country from whence he came, with +Arbatus+ her brother, and +Zoranzo+ prisoner; and on the other side +Amphelia+, +Ortellus+, and Guard._
+Duke.+ Madam, I need not say y'are welcome to this Country, since 'tis mine.
+Art.+ Sir, leaving my own for yours Speaks my belief of that, and all things else You say.
+Duke.+ The same unto your worthy brother, Besides, my thanks to you, sir, for letting Your sister take this journey.
+Arb.+ Your highness hath so nobly express'd Yourself unto my sister, that I Consented to her coming with you; so Highly I esteem'd your princely word, That I have let her trespass on the Bound of common modesty in this Adventure: for when this hasty judging World shall see you have brought a woman From her own country, and not your Wife, how soon will every tongue give her Another title!
+Duke.+ Sir, my sudden actions shall prevent all Tongues or thoughts either to name or think her Anything but my duchess; therefore All that owe duty or respect to me, pay it To her. What, Amphelia, did you believe The world so barren of good faces, that Yours only does enrich it? or did you think It was men's fates only to doat on yours? Look on this lady, and you'll see your error; Mark well her face, and you will find In every line beauty sits empress there. These are the eyes, Amphelia, now, that dart Obedience through my heart; are not you vex'd To see I am no constant fool, and love You still?
+Amph.+ Vexed at what? to see a man I hate Love another? a very great vexation! Know, sir, this breast has only room for joy And love to brave Ortellus-- Forgive my heart that 'twas not yours before, Since you have long deserv'd it.
+Ort.+ Madam, no time was long enough to wait This blessed hour.
+Amph.+ Alas, great duke! instead Of pining for your change, you find me midst A thousand joys in this new choice.
+Duke.+ So you do me, Amphelia, amidst Ten thousand; not all the glories that Attend a conquering soldier can create One joy so great in me, As being conquer'd here in my own triumphs. I am but a slave; Nor does my victory over thousands please Me so much, as being overcome by One--by this fair one, whose eyes, by shining On my triumph only, make it glorious.
+Amph.+ Well, sir, we will not change our happy states; You cannot brag of happiness so great To make me envy: I am only sorry for This lady, that had nothing else to do With her heart but to give it you. Madam, If your breast had been crowded with some twenty Or thirty hearts, and amongst these one very Ill, you might have Made present of that to this mighty duke.
+Duke.+ Madam, does not this lady's discourse make you Afraid of me.
+Art.+ Not in the least, sir.
+Duke.+ Where's this bold prisoner?
+Guard.+ Here, and [it] please your highness.
+Duke.+ Well, sir, tho' you did attempt to kill me In our camp, after you were our prisoner, You shall not die, since you are of the same Country this lady is; therefore thank her And fortune for your life.
+Zor.+ I'd sooner curse them both. Shall I thank any for my life, but heaven That gave it me? I'd rather give it to A cat. A noble death were far more welcome To me, than a mean life at second hand. My being here I owe unto the gods. When they think fit to lend it me no longer, They know the way to take it from me. I scorn To run in debt unto a mortal duke for two Or three days' breath.
+Amph.+ Brave captive! [Aside.
+Duke.+ You're Very high, considering you are in chains.
+Zor.+ Why, sir, think you these fetters can confine My mind as they do my legs, or that my Tongue is your prisoner, and dares only say: May it please your highness? How much are you Mistaken? Know, sir, my soul is Prompter to my tongue, and gives it courage to say Anything that heaven will not frown at. We Should detract from those great pow'rs above, If we pay fears to any here below. Perhaps you think I'll beg my life now upon A pair of bent petitioning knees? No, sir; Had I a hundred lives, I'd give them all To sharpest deaths, rather than beg for one.
+Duke.+ You're well resolv'd; perhaps your mind may alter, When you see the axe. In the meantime commit him To the closest prison where, if you have any Accounts with heaven, you will have time to cast Them up before your death.
+Zor.+ Your sentence brings me Joy. Welcome the keenest axe that can be set! 'Twill cut my head and chains both off together. Welcome, most happy stroke, since it will bring Rest to my eyes, and make a slave a king. [Exit with a Guard.
+Duke.+ Madam, I suppose this journey has so wearied You, that it is time to show you the way To your lodgings, and leave you to your Repose.
+Guard.+ Make way there for the duke!
+Amph.+ My lord, you had best attend the duke, because 'Tis a respect due to him.
+Ort.+ I shall, madam, At your command. [Exeunt.
+Amph.+ How has my tongue belied my too true heart, In speaking hate unto The duke, and love to Ortellus! I hate the duke? So eyes do sleep, that long have known no rest. How could my lips give passage to such words, And not have clos'd for ever? Not by my heart's direction, I am sure; for that So swell'd, being injured by my mouth, as, had Not pride and reason kept it here from this Unquiet feat, it would have forc'd away To Archimedes' breast, and there have whisper'd to His heart my tongue's untruth. Why should I love This man, that shows me nothing but contempt And hate? Rouse, drooping heart, and think Of that; think of it always, so by degrees 'Twill bring a winter round thee, that in time Shall chill the heat of thy undone and lost Affections. O, it is not true that all Our sex love change, then I might find one path That leads to it; That womanish vice were virtue now in me, 'Twould free my heart, and that were charity.
Enter +Duke+.
See, where he comes again; O, how I love And hate that man! Now help me, pride, and fill My breast with scorn; and pr'ythee, tongue, take heed You do not falter: hear not, my heart, that will Distract thy speech, and so betray my feign'd Unkindness.
+Duke.+ What, Amphelia all alone? Weary of your new love already? can't You pass away the time with him one hour?
+Amph.+ Were he No finer man than yourself, to be with him A minute, I should think a Seven years' penance. Good heart, lie still, and let my tongue alone. [Aside. I wonder what a woman can see in you, Or hear from you, to make her love you. (I was just going to have said, hate him.) [Aside. O, what a task is this! therefore let me Advise you to have a mean opinion Of yourself.
+Duke.+ Methinks that advice might serve For yourself. Ha, ha, ha!
+Amph.+ Have patience, heart, I know I lie: thou need'st Not tell me so--I had better then confess My love. [Aside.] Do you laugh, duke? [i']faith So could I at you, till the tears ran down My cheeks--that they would quickly do, for grief Would fain unload my eyes. I must begone, I cannot longer act this part, unless I had a heart as hard as his. [Aside.
+Duke.+ What, you are going Now to your love Ortellus?
+Amph.+ I am so, And going from you to him, is pleasure double, Not only pain, to quit, but joy to meet.
+Duke.+ Make haste then, for your departure will oblige Me too, so we shall be all pleas'd!
+Amph.+ Haste I will make, but with unwilling feet: For every step from him my grief repeats. [Aside. Exit.
+Duke.+ She's gone, and after her my heart is flown, 'Tis well it has no tongue to make its moan; Then 'twould discover what my pride conceals, A heart in love (though slighted) love reveals. Yet though I love her still, she shall not know; Her hate shall seem my joy, which is my woe. My constancy I'll outwardly disguise, Though here within I am not half so wise. Yet rather than disclose my doating fate, I'll wound my heart by counterfeiting hate. To whine, it wou'd the worst of follies prove, Since women only pity when they love. With how much scorn she gave me welcome home, Ortellus in her hand, to show my doom! Me and my triumphs she did so despise, As if they'd been unworthy of her eyes. 'Tis well to her I show'd as much disdain; I'd rather perish than she guess my pain. But O, the horrid act she makes me do, To fool a woman that is young and true! So damn'd a sin, that hell could not invent, It is too foul for any punishment; To question those above I am afraid, Else I would ask them, why they woman made.
Enter +Philidor+.
O my mad cousin, your servant. Whither so fast?
+Phil.+ So fast, sir? why, I have been hunted by a pack of hounds This three hours, And damn'd deep-mouth'd hounds too, [sir] no less than Three couple of nurses, three couple Of plaguy hunting bitches, and with them Three couple of whelps, alias children, sir. They have rung me such a ring this morning Through every by-turning that leads to a bawdy House, I wish'd myself earth'd a thousand Times, as a fox does when he is hard-run, But that they wou'd have presently digged me Out with their tongues.
+Duke.+ Faith, Philidor, 'Tis no news to me; for I have known thee From sixteen at this course of life. What, and these Children were all your bastards, and your nurses Coming to dun you for money?
+Phil.+ Something of that's in it, I think, sir.
+Duke.+ Well, coz, I'll leave thee to thy wildness; a fitter Companion much for thee than I at this time.
+Phil.+ Why, sir, I hope nothing has happened To trouble you?
+Duke.+ No, no; My grief, alas! is far beyond express; To tell it to a friend can't make it less. [Exit.
+Phil.+ Wou'd I were at the wars again: I fear No sword half so much as the tongue of one Of these nurses; and the youling of th' children Are more dismal to my ears than the groans Of dying men in a battle. I am At this time in law with six or seven Parishes about fath'ring of bastards; Tis very fine truly! and yet me thinks 'Tis a hard case that I should be sued for Multiplying the world, Since death makes bold with bastards, As well as other children. The very picture Of a nurse and child in her arms wou'd fright Me now. O, from that sight deliver me!
Enter Nurse and Child as he is going out.
Ha! and here they come: pox on't, what luck have I after saying my prayers? it shall be a Fair warning to me; now am I started Again, and must go run t'other course. [Offers to run away.
+1st Nurse.+ 'Squire Philidor, 'Squire Philidor! [She runs after him.
+Phil.+ How deaf Am I now! 'tis well I know this by-way To avoid her.
Enter Second Nurse and meets him.
Ha! S'death, another? The devil appearing here too?
+2d Nurse.+ O my proper Young 'squire, stay, stay, d'ye hear, sir?
+Phil.+ No, indeed, won't I. Yet I know one way More to avoid them.
Enter Third Nurse.
Ha! another coming Here too? Nay then, I find I am in hell, Before I thought I shou'd. What will become Of me now?
+3d Nurse.+ O 'squire, I thought I should Never have spoken with your worship.
+Phil.+ No, by this Light, shou'd you not, if I could have holp it. [Aside.
+1st Nurse.+ I wonder, 'squire, at your conscience, t'avoid Your pretty babes as you do.
+Phil.+ So, now it Begins, I am like to have sweet music From the comfort of these nurses' tongues.
+1st Nurse.+ Saving your presence, sir, I think here are Three as sweet babes as ever sucked teat, And all born within the year too, besides Three more that your worship has in our street.
+Phil.+ A very hopeful generation! sure, This was a great nut year![73] Well, if all trades fail, I may go Into some foreign plantation, where They want people, and be well paid for my Pains: wou'd I were there now!
+1st Nurse.+ Codge, codge, Dos a laugh upon a dad? In conscience, sir, The child knows your worship.
+Phil.+ A very great comfort!
+1st Nurse.+ My young master here is as like your worship As e'er he can look; has your tempting eyes To a hair: I cou'd not choose but smile To myself t'other day; I was making him clean About the secrets, to see that[74] God had sent him In a plentiful manner; it put me half In mind of your worship. I am sure I Have been at double the expense of other Nurses, in eating choice meat, to make my Milk good for my young master, because I Would not spoil the growth of any one of his Members.
+2d Nurse.+ Nay, for that, neighbour, I have ate As good, or better, meat than you, every day In the week: I never touch'd a bit of Salt meat, for fear of spoiling my child's blood.
+Phil.+ Considering how well 'tis born. [Aside.
+3d Nurse.+ Nay, neighbours, for that I have been at greater Charge than either of you, in choice diets, To breed good milk for my young mistress here.
+1st Nurse.+ You lie.
+2d Nurse.+ You are a quean.
+1st Nurse.+ And you're a whore. Marry, your husband is the notedest Cuckold in all our street.
+2d Nurse.+ You lie, you jade, Yours is a greater.
+Phil.+ Hiss! Now for a battle Royal.
+1st Nurse.+ If I lay the child out of my [Lay their children down, and fight. Arms, I'll pull off your head-clothes, you-- Carrion!
+2d Nurse.+ Marry, come, if thou durst.
+Phil.+ 'Tis best for me to be a coward, And march off from this bloody fight.
+All Nurses.+ Hold, hold, the 'squire is going away.
+Phil.+ So, nothing could have parted them this three Hours, but the fear of losing me. [Aside.
+1st Nurse.+ What, wou'd Your worship have left us without paying us For nursing your children? you have a conscience, With a pox to you!
+Phil.+ So, now will they end Their war in vollies of shot upon me. I have but one thing now to do. With ev'ry One of these hags have I been forc'd to lie, Which they took as satisfaction for payment For two months' nursing. Perhaps, rather Than they will have it known to one another, They'll hold their tongues and leave me? Well, my three sweet harmonious nurses, what is due to you?
+1st Nurse.+ Due! why, there was twelve months Due for nursing; 'tis true, two months your squireship Satisfied me for.
+2d Nurse.+ And me too.
+3d Nurse.+ And me Likewise.
+Phil.+ Harkye, if you will not be gone, I'll tell.
+1st Nurse.+ No, marry, won't I, till I have My money.
+2d Nurse.+ Don't think to fright me, but pay me.
+3d Nurse.+ I fear you not; pay me my money.
+Phil.+ Pox on't, 'twill not do, I must try another Way.--Boy, was the wolf fed to-day?
+Boy.+ No, sir.
+Phil.+ Go fetch him quickly, to dine with these ladies. [Exeunt +Nurses+. So! I thought I should set them going. He! The devil, they have left the children behind them. This was a very cunning device of mine. Now am I in a pretty condition. Troth, a Very noble Anabaptist progeny! For the devil a one of these were ever Christen'd; for I have run so much upon Tick to the parsons for christening of Children, that now they all refuse to make Any bastards of mine a Christian Without ready money; so that I'll have This boy bred up a parson, that he may Christen himself and the rest of his sisters And brothers. What shall I do, when these infants, Begin to be hungry, and youl for th' teat? O, that a milk-woman wou'd come by now! Well, I must remove my flock from hence. Small Coal, small coal, will you buy any small coal? Pox on it. I could never light of any But fruitful whores. Small coal, small coal! [Exit.
FOOTNOTES:
[73] [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, 275.]
[74] [Old copy, what.]
Act II
Enter +Zoranzo+, as in prison.
+Zor.+ Sure, 'tis not kind of those great pow'rs above, To add these chains to me that am in love. As to my bed of straw, I am content, Since any bed from her is punishment. To lie on down of swans would be hard rest, Could I not make my pillow on her breast. O Amarissa, wert thou here with me, I would not sell these bonds for liberty. Ransoms that prisoners give to be set free, I'd give as much to lie in chains by thee. Here is her picture. O, thou too like shade, [Pulls out her picture. To look on it my eyes are half afraid, It so presents my joy and misery; Since 'tis the nothing of that all to me. The greatest pain to any lover's heart, Is to remember when they are apart; For thoughts of joys, when there's a bar betwixt, Are worse than poison with a cordial mix'd.
Enter +Amphelia+ and +Jailor+.
+Amph.+ Well said, jailor, here's for thy pains. Brave pris'ner, Perhaps this visit may appear but strange To you, till you have heard me speak--Know then, When you receiv'd the sentence of your death, you seem'd To meet it with so brave a soul, as if The sound had not displeas'd your ears. Thus did Your courage fill my eyes with wonder, and My heart with pity. Straight I resolv'd to give you all my helps To set you free, which now I offer to You.
+Zor.+ Madam, could I tell you what to say I Wou'd begin; I have nothing but poor thanks To offer to you, and those, though millions, were Not half enough. Compassion shown unto The miserable heaven can only recompence; Therefore, in my dying prayers, I will beg from thence A blessing to reward your pity.
+Amph.+ Sir, The joy of your escape will pay my pains; All my endeavours I will set at work: The time is short, therefore I must make haste. Expect to hear of me again with speed.
Enter +Ortellus+, as she is going out.
+Zor.+ What can this mean? heaven grant she does not Love me; I wou'd not wish so brave a heart So great a punishment, since my love's fix'd already.
+Ort.+ Madam, I have been seeking you; pray, whence Came you? This is no usual place to find you In.
+Amph.+ I was only walking this way, sir.
+Ort.+ I'll wait on you presently.--I suspect She has been at the prison; I will inform Myself by the jailor; and yet perhaps She has bid him to deny it. [Steps back to the Jailor. The lady Amphelia says she has left one of Her gloves behind her in the prison, and Has sent me for it.
+Jail.+ I'll go see straight, sir.
+Ort.+ She has been there, it seems, then. Madam, I Fancy you have been to see the prison.
+Amph.+ Who, I? What makes you think so?
+Ort.+ Why, am I mistaken?
+Amph.+ Yes; what should I do there?
+Ort.+ Nay, that's the question, But there you have been just now, and with the Pris'ner too.
+Amph.+ Sure, you dream.
+Ort.+ She's false, I find: I'll try her love to me. [Aside. Madam, since you Have been pleased to show your kindness publicly To me, I take this time to beg my happiness, Which is, that a priest may join our hands.
+Amph.+ I will not marry yet.
+Ort.+ Why, pray, madam?
+Amph.+ For a very good reason, because I ha'n't A mind to't.
+Ort.+ Will you give me another reason?
+Amph.+ I need not: that's sufficient.
+Ort.+ You love me, do you not?
+Amph.+ You know I have declar'd it.
+Ort.+ But (sure) you'll not deny me twice?
+Amph.+ Not, if you ask but once.
+Ort.+ Fie, fie, this modesty's a thief to lovers, And robs them of their time. Come, come, Say aye, and blush.
+Amph.+ I'll not say aye, nor blush.
+Ort.+ If you had any modesty, you wou'd.
+Amph.+ You said Just now I had too much.
+Ort.+ Too much Of impudence, you mean.
+Amph.+ What's that to say?
+Ort.+ Why, truth.
+Amph.+ Get you out, and wash your tongue: 'Tis foul.
+Ort.+ 'Tis like you heart then, But that it cannot lie as much.
+Amph.+ Most valiant lord, To give the lie to petticoats!
+Ort.+ Why did you Deny your being in prison?
+Amph.+ Not for fear of you; I was with the brave prisoner, What then?
+Ort.+ You went to make love to him. You had best use your time well; 'twill Be short and sweet: your dear will not be so Proper a man by the head within this Two days. False woman! you've a heart that flies From one man's breast to another: all the Inconstancy of your sex is constancy To this of yours: you have deceived the duke Already; that might have been my warning.
+Amph.+ Faith, and so It might; th' duke in all things so far excels You, that you were a fool to think, when once My heart bid him farewell, that it design'd No better a change than you. Troth, your mistaken; It had a farther journey to make, and so Took your breast for an inn only, to lie By the way.
+Ort.+ Base woman! is't not enough that you Have fool'd me, but you must mock me too? Heaven Hold my hand from murdering thee!
+Amph.+ Fright those that fear you. [Exit.
+Ort.+ Curses of all fool'd men (like me) light heavy On thee! Revenge begins to fill my heart, And I will pour it out on this base woman. I know the way: I'll to the duke.
Enter +Duke+.
I am Glad I have met your highness, for I have Business to impart to you that concerns your life.
+Duke.+ What is't, Ortellus?
+Ort.+ Know, sir, Amphelia, that----
+Duke.+ Loves you?
+Ort.+ No, sir, she loves The pris'ner.
+Duke.+ 'Tis impossible.
+Ort.+ 'Tis very true, sir, I caught her coming from him! she's designing His escape, and for aught I know, her love To him may put other thoughts into her head.
+Duke.+ What d'ye mean?
+Ort.+ She may design your life; A woman that is ill, exceeds a man In mischief.
+Duke.+ My lord, I thank your care. If you Can track her farther, pray let me know; in the Meantime I shall prevent her ill intentions.
+Ort.+ My diligence shall not be wanting. So, Since I can have no love, revenge shall be My mistress. [Aside. Exit.
+Duke.+ O Amphelia! why dost Thou take such pains to break my heart, when 'tis So easily done? She needs not secretly Contrive my death, since half a word from her Commands my life: her face and heart (sure) can Not be akin; nature mistook, or else She was to blame to give one woman two So great extremes.
Enter +Arbatus+.
See, here comes the brother To wronged Artabella: th' horror of That sin grows bigger in me, That I with a deluding love should fool An innocent, to show an outward scorn To false Amphelia; for when I heard She lov'd Ortellus, I straight made love to this young Woman, and brought her from her own country, Only to make Amphelia think I lov'd Another.
+Arb.+ I hope I don't disturb your highness.
+Duke.+ No, Arbatus, you are always welcome To me.
+Arb.+ Sir, I should ask you a question.
+Duke.+ You freely may.
+Arb.+ Not but I think my sister far unworthy, either In birth or fortune, to be call'd your wife; Yet since you have been pleas'd to grace her with Your love so far, as saying she shall be your Duchess, be pleas'd to tell me why it is Not so? she has been here so long, that people Now begin to say you mean her for your mistress; Should my ears meet that sound from any tongue, I'd----
+Duke.+ Hold, Arbatus, I'm sure I have given No cause as yet to doubt my kindness to Your sister.
+Arb.+ Pardon me, sir, in your delay you have. My sister has no dowry but her virtue, Youth, and some small stock of beauty. These if You lov'd her for, you would not waste, By letting time rob her and you at once.
+Duke.+ Sir, business of great importance has Hitherto deferr'd my marriage; believe Me, you shall find me just.
+Arb.+ A prince's word Must not be question'd; I have done.
+Duke.+ O Amphelia! what dost thou make me do? [Exit.
+Arb.+ Let him take heed; if he does fool my sister, Were he ten thousand dukes, I'd cut his throat. [Exit.
Enter +Philidor+ alone.
+Phil.+ I have been quite at t'other end o'th' town, To put my children out to new nurses, For I am known to every nurse hereabout; That they will as soon nurse a cat's kitten As any child of mine. This is a very Pleasant life I lead, neither is this the Worst part of it; for there are a certain Flock of women that I have promis'd marriage, I expect a volley of shot from them too, Soon as they find me out. Would wives and children Were as hard to come by as money, then would I turn usurer, and let 'em out to use; For, to say truth, I have enough to spare.
Enter six +Ladies+, one after another.
So, here comes one of my promis'd Virgins! Nay, a second too--a third--a fourth--a fifth-- A sixth--Welcome, blessed half-dozen; now will I go Muster my nurses and children too, and go Against the Great Turk. I am glad to see They have brought ne'er a coffin, for I expect Nothing but death from them. I wonder they don't Begin to ring my funeral peal. See every One of them beckons to me, as much as to say, I'd speak with you in private; but the devil Take me if e'er a one of them do; I find By this they would not have their business known To one another; this may be a means for me To get off for this time--Ladies, you all Look as if you had something to say to Me; pray make me so happy as to let Me know what 'tis. They dare not speak aloud. [Aside.] Will you, Madam? or you? or you, madam? or you, Madam? [What] not one of you tell me what The honour of these visits mean? I see I am troublesome to you all? therefore I'll not be longer rude; and so I take My leave--This was good luck, that they should come All together; for I had rather be [Beckon him. Alone six hours with the devil, than with E'er a one of them an half hour--I'll stand close In this corner till they are all gone.
+1st Lady.+ Now the pox take him for a cunning rogue!
+2d Lady.+ A plague take him!
+3d Lady.+ The devil take him!
+4th Lady.+ If there be e'er a devil worse than another, Take him thou!
+5th Lady.+ O, that I had him alone!
+6th Lady.+ Was there ever such a rascal? [Exeunt at several doors.
+Phil.+ So the coast is clear again-- [Peeps out.
Enter +Mirida+.
S'death, here comes another--O, 'tis none Of that gang, though.
+Mir.+ I'll lay my head, ne'er a girl in Christendom Of my age, can say what I can; I'm now But five years i'th' teens, and I have fool'd Five several men.
+Phil.+ A brave wench, by this light! Sure, it is I in petticoats.
+Mir.+ My humour Is to love no man, but to have as many Love me as they please, come cut or long tail.
+Phil.+ A most divine wench!
+Mir.+ 'Tis a rare diversion, to see what several Ways my flock of lovers have in being Ridiculous; some of them sigh so damnably, That 'tis as troublesome as a windy day. There's two of them that make their love together, By languishing eye-casts; one of them has One eye bigger than another, and looks Like a tumbler; and that eye's like a musket Bullet, and I expect every minute when he Will hit me with it, he aims so right at me. My other lover looks a-squint, and to See him cast languishing eyes, would make a Woman with child miscarry. There is also A very fat man, master Pinguister, and A very lean man that loves me; I tell the Fat man I cannot marry him till he's Leaner, and the lean man I cannot marry Him till he's fat: so one of them purges And runs heats every morning, to pull down His sides, and th' other makes his tailor stuff His clothes to make him show fatter. O, what Pleasure do I take in fooling of mankind!
+Phil.+ Was there ever so witty a wench? 'tis the Woman of women for my turn. I'll to her-- Thou most renowned female! I cannot hold--
+Mir.+ From what?
+Phil.+ From kissing thee, [from] loving thee, or what Thou wilt.
+Mir.+ Troth, y'are very well acquainted, consid'ring You never saw me before!
+Phil.+ Saw thee! I have Heard thee talk this hour, like an angel of light.
+Mir.+ Well, d'ye love me for what you heard me say?
+Phil.+ Yes, faith, do I; why, you are just of my Humour; when I heard thee say how many Men you had fool'd, I was very glad to hear You come one short of me, for I have fool'd Six women, and you but five men.
+Mir.+ Why, If you love me, you will be the sixth fool, To make up my half dozen too.
+Phil.+ No, I Won't, and yet I love thee too.
+Mir.+ Why, how will You help it?
+Phil.+ Thus: you and I Will love one another.
+Mir.+ What, whether I will or no?
+Phil.+ Nay, hear me, we two will love how we please, When we please, and as long as We please: do not These propositions tickle your heart a little?
+Mir.+ I don't mislike them--Now could I take him About the neck and kiss him for this humour Of his. And do you say you will love me! [Aside.
+Phil.+ Yes, marry, will I.
+Mir.+ Nay, hold, I won't marry You.
+Phil.+ Nor I thee, for all the world.
+Mir.+ And yet You say you will love me?
+Phil.+ I tell you I will: make no more words on it.
+Mir.+ Why then, Hark you, to be as absolute as you, I will love you too, that is to say, Upon the aforesaid conditions.
+Phil.+ With all my heart; prythee, don't think That I Will love thee upon any other terms. But come, We must seal this Bargain with hands, hearts, lips.
+Mir.+ No, no; no lips; we will only shake hands Upon't, that's enough for so weighty a contract As this of ours.
+Phil.+ But, prythee, let us seal The bargain.
+Mir.+ No, no, sir, I use no wax To my lips.
+Phil.+ Nay, by my troth, I care not A pin to kiss thee.
+Mir.+ No? look upon me well, And see if you can say so again.
+Phil.+ Hum--yes, Faith, I will give two-pence to kiss thee Now.
+Mir.+ Well, sir, when I do kiss you, I'll 'bate you A penny of that.
+Phil.+ Now you and I will sing this song. [He sings.
_My love and I a bargain made, It is well worth a telling: When one was weary, we agreed To part, should both be willing._
+Mir.+ Nay, here I'm for you too. [She sings.
_And thus our loves will longer last, Than fools that still are pining: We'll spend our time in joy and mirth, Whilst doaters do in whining._
+Phil.+ Faith, you and I sing very well; we are Alike in that too: I see either nature Or the devil, somebody or something, made Thee and me for one another. Well, But let us Remember our conditions: imprimis, I Will love you.
+Mir.+ Item, so will I you.
+Phil.+ I Will not say how long.
+Mir.+ Item, nor I neither.
+Phil.+ Item, it may be I can love you but A week.
+Mir.+ I don't care if't be but a day.
+Phil.+ I'll ne'er be tied to any thing.
+Mir.+ Item, thou shalt be tied to what thou wilt But me.
+Phil.+ Item, I will come when I please, And go when I please.
+Mir.+ Item, thou shalt drown Thyself when thou wilt, or hang thyself when Thou wilt, or go to the devil when thou wilt.
+Phil.+ Item, if I should like another woman, I Will have the liberty of leaving you, without Any ceremony, but just saying Good-bye.
+Mir.+ Item, if I should like any Man better than you, I'll leave you without saying So much as good-bye.
+Phil.+ Item, the first that Sighs of us two, shall fast a week.
+Mir.+ Item, the first That looks but melancholy of us two, Shall be starv'd to death.
+Phil.+ To conclude, we will Both be as mad as we please.
+Mir.+ Agreed, And the devil take the tamest!
+Phil.+ A bless'd bargain! But hark you, there's one thing I have forgot.
+Mir.+ What's that?
+Phil.+ Have you had as many children as I?
+Mir.+ No, indeed, ha'nt I.
+Phil.+ Why, then you must let me help you to 'em, That you may be even with me there too.
+Mir.+ Hold, sir, that bargain's yet to make.
+Phil.+ Pox on't! That should have been one of our articles.
+Mir.+ Well, I can stay no longer with you now.
+Phil.+ Nay, prythee, hold, thou shalt not go yet; I Can't part with you so soon.
+Mir.+ Ay, but I have A mind to go, and that is one of our Articles.
+Phil.+ Well, but shan't we put that other Article in, before we part?
+Mir.+ No, no, good-bye to you.
+Phil.+ Farewell, mettle-- [Exit.
Enter +Pinguister+, +Doctor+, and +Servants+.
+Mir.+ Look you, master Pinguister, this is the Measure must meet about your waist, before I marry you.
+Pin.+ This? why it will not come About the small of my leg. [Tries the measure himself.
+Mir.+ Sir, I am sorrier For it: but it must compass your middle before You can be my dear chuck: your servant, sir, I am in haste.
+Pin.+ Prythee, thou damnable Pretty rogue, let me have some comfort from thee, Before thou goest, either from thy eyes, Thy cheeks, mouth, or nose, or some part about thee Consider what a dissolution I Must undergo for love of thee.
+Mir.+ I do indeed, sir; but your servant for this time. [Exit.
+Pin.+ Worthy doctor, my hopes are all in you now, I have tried many physicians already To make me lean enough for that Tormenting, pretty fairy devil.
+Doctor.+ Truly, sir, your case is very desperate; But if any man in the world can drain Your fat from you, 'tis I: sir, we'll begin Your course out of hand.
+Pin.+ Do you hear, be sure I have at least two dozen of napkins ready Upon the spot, to rub me at every turn; Therefore come you all along with me-- Have mercy on me, I have love and fat Enough to furnish a whole nation. [Exeunt.
Act III
Enter +Amphelia+, going to the prison.
+Amph.+ How false a woman to all eyes I seem, Because I still will hide my constant love! This way I take will bravely break my heart, To tell the duke were sneakingly to die: Since, if he knew that I did love him still, With basest scorns he'd laugh my soul to death; Such friendship to this pris'ner I will show, Shall make the duke believe my heart is there. To set him free I'll use my utmost art----. Would I could do as much for this poor heart! This way my love with my designs complies, Thus one in chains another's chains unties. I have made the jailor mine already, By promising him these hundred pieces-- 'Tis now about the time I appointed To be here--
Enter +Jailor+.
O, yonder's the jailor expecting me-- Here, jailor, here's for thy Honesty: may the business be done now?
+Jailor.+ O madam, never at a fitter time; take you The key and go in to the prisoner; Whilst I go see the passage clear, Stand you at th' door, and when I beckon To you, come away.
+Amph.+ Honest jailor?
+Jailor.+ So, now I am just i' th' fashion; I have taken Money to do her business, and instead Of doing it I have undone it.
Enter +Duke+ and +Ortellus+.
+Ort.+ 'Tis so, sir. The jailor has discover'd all to me. Here He comes.
+Jailor.+ And please your highness to stand close Here, for the lady Amphelia is now With the prisoner; I have given her a Key to convey him through this private passage; As soon as I beckon to her, she will come Away with him. [Beckons her.
+Amph.+ Come, sir, give me your hand; The jailor beckons me; the way is clear.
+Duke.+ Hold, lady, and your love, we must shorten Your journey a little.
+Amph.+ Ha! the duke and Ortellus! I am betray'd! O villain jailor!
+Ort.+ Sir, I fear we've interrupted them; it may be They were going to be married; ha, ha, ha!
+Amph.+ If I were, 'twas what I refused you, Ortellus; that makes you so mad.
+Duke.+ Well, madam, If you have a mind to be married, a priest Shall not join your hands, but you shall go both Back to the prison, and th' jailor shall tie you Both hands and legs together.
+Amph.+ Know, sir, A prison with this brave gentleman Will be greater paradise to me, than to Be mistress of your palace. What do I say? [Aside.
+Duke.+ Well you shall have your desire then; ye shall live Together, and die together. How could I speak that word to her? [Aside.
+Zor.+ She die, sir! Wou'd you destroy so great a world of virtue? Rather invent two deaths for me, that I May die for her too. You'll rob Your dukedom of your greatest treasure to take Away so blest a life as hers: let not An axe part such a head and body, Lest heaven frown and call you murderer. You'll pull Upon your head all mankind's curse: when nature Sees her bounty thus rewarded, she will Turn miser, and will give no more such blessings To th' world as this fair saint.
+Duke.+ Well, sir, I'm satisfied ye like one another, so you Shall both return back to your straw beds, there you May lie as close together as you please.
+Amph.+ No, sir, virtue shall lie betwixt us.
+Duke.+ You will want a pillow, till you come both To execution, then you shall have one-- A block to lay your heads on.
+Amph.+ Know, [O] duke, My head will rest better with his upon a block, Than with yours on the softest pillow. How Many lies must I confess, before I die. [Aside.
+Duke.+ Indeed, you'll sleep pretty soundly. See, her scorn To me makes death a pleasure to her. [Aside. My lord, give order that she may be brought Immediately to her trial; in the meantime, Jailor, take them into your custody; Lay 'em in shackles both. Cousin, many thanks To you for this timely discovery. I must leave you awhile. [Exit.
+Ort.+ Duke, you shall have Less to thank me for, else I am deceiv'd. I've found out he loves Amphelia still, So she does him. Now will I go possess Arbatus of this, and tell him how the duke Intends to fool his sister. He has the Character of so strict a brother, and so brave A spirit, that his soul will never digest This injury without the duke's blood. Will join with him, and tell him how The business may be done. By this, one of these three things shall I have Either a mistress, dukedom, or a grave.
Enter +Arbatus+ and +Artabella+.
See, here comes Arbatus and his sister Artabella; they talk very earnestly.
+Arb.+ Sister, I do not like it; the duke will Fool ye.
+Art.+ Indeed, brother, I am amaz'd At this delay.
+Arb.+ How does he carry himself To you?
+Art.+ With all respect imaginable.
+Arb.+ Then there must be something more in't, That he defers his marriage thus.
+Ort.+ There is So, sir.
+Arb.+ My lord, heark'ning's but a base office; But if you have heard it, 'tis no treason.
+Ort.+ No, sir, but it is falseness in the duke, To use your worthy sister thus. I came To tell you upon my knowledge, he never Intended to marry her.
+Arb.+ My lord, though I believe it, you must pardon Me, if I wonder at this information From your lordship, that is his near cousin.
+Ort.+ Sir, you have the character of so brave A gentleman, conscience and honour Bids me discover this to you and your sister: Think of a way of being reveng'd, and here's My hand and heart to help you.
+Arb.+ Pardon Me, that I cannot thank you truly, because I needs must doubt this offer from your lordship.
+Ort.+ What can I say to confirm you? will the Word and honour of a gentleman do't?
+Arb.+ To me those are things of great value.
+Ort.+ Then here I give them both.
+Arb.+ But what to do, my lord?
+Ort.+ What you will.
+Arb.+ Perhaps you think I'd have you Ask some place about the court for me, in Recompense of this injury to my sister?
+Ort.+ No, sir, had you been such a person, I Should not have trusted you thus far with what I have said. I say [it] again, I am Your friend; if you doubt it, you wrong my honour.
+Arb.+ Why then, my lord, to be short, nothing will Satisfy me, but the duke's----
+Ort.+ What?
+Arb.+ Blood.
+Ort.+ Why, Thou shalt have it all, if I can help thee To't; this night will I convey you privately Into his bed-chamber. Come along with me, And I will tell you all. [Exit.
+Arb.+ My lord, I follow you. Sister, go to your chamber.
+Art.+ O brother! Heaven preserve you in this danger.
+Arb.+ Now It comes into my head, I need not doubt This lord's truth; he is next heir to the dukedom, If the duke die without issue. 'Tis base in him the duke's life to pursue, His blood is only to my sister due. [Exit.
+Art.+ False duke, thou justly hast deserv'd thy death; To cheat the innocent is a double crime; I had no cunning guard about this heart To keep it safe from a seducing tongue. I have lost my heart, which he by falseness won; How soon is truth and innocence undone! [Exit.
Enter +Philidor+.
+Phil.+ Pray remember the poor prisoners, pray Remember the prisoners. Well, had I Not taken this course with the regiment Of women that I have promis'd to marry, I should have been devour'd by 'em by this Time. They came just now into my chamber, One by one, hoping to have found me alone, To have preach'd matrimony to me; but, To my blest deliverance, no sooner One was there, but another came; so I Persuaded them one by one, to slip up Into a garret: so still as one knock'd At the door, the t'other ascended; there Have I secur'd them with this key, and there Must I keep them till I have made Conditions with them.
Enter +Mirida+.
O, here comes Mirida. Pray remember the poor prisoners, pray Remember the poor prisoners.
+Mir.+ Who the devil's that, Philidor?
+Phil.+ The very same, my mettled female.
+Mir.+ Why, What mad prank art thou playing now?
+Phil.+ Alack- A-day, I have great cares upon me; I Must provide meat for half-a-dozen ladies, That shou'd have been my spouses. Look up yonder; In that very garret, for aught I know, they Must dine and sup at my charge as long as They live; and thus must I be their cook every Day, and beg their first and second course.
+Mir.+ I am sorry to hear this, because 'tis A wilder trick than I have done lately To any of my lovers. Prythee, let's Go under the window, and call to them.
+Phil.+ Come away, you shall hear what vollies we shall Have from the castle. Most excellent Amazonian ladies, look out, and behold Your labouring purveyor, what pains he Takes to victual your castle, Because he knows you must be long there. [Women look out.
+1st Lady.+ Rogue!
+2d Lady.+ Rascal!
+3d Lady.+ Villain!
+4th Lady.+ Dog!
+5th Lady.+ Slave!
+6th Lady.+ Hell-hound!
+Phil.+ Methinks you represent the hemisphere, Because you are enthron'd so high; your eyes Appear like stars to us poor mortals here Below.
+1st Lady.+ Villain, if we had thee here, thou Should'st find it hell.
+Mir.+ Pray, ladies, what makes you So angry? Methinks the gentleman is Your friend, and has holpt you nearer heaven Than perhaps e'er a one of you would ever Have been.
+2d Lady.+ What's that you say, little piss-a-bed?
+Mir.+ Sweet angels, will never a one of you Please to descend?
+3d Lady.+ Thou little devil, If we had thee here, we'd throw thee down again With such a swing, we'd knock that rascal's brains Out with thy fall.
+Mir.+ Then, angry ladies, I Shall stay here--see, has not that lady A very fair nose at this distance?
+Phil.+ Has Not t'other there a mouth, that when she opens it To scold, looks like a giant's cave?
+4th Lady.+ S'life, we'll Not be abus'd thus; here's a Hercules' statue, Let's throw it down upon their heads.
[+Mirida+ runs away, and meets +Pinguister+ and stops.
Enter +Pinguister+ and +Doctor+.
+Mir.+ Hold, Philidor, we shall have some new sport Of my making now; here comes my fat lover, Let us stand close and hear a little.
+Ping.+ Doctor, Pray, how many stools may I happily have This morning by this purgation, already Taken by me?
+Doctor.+ Doubtless, one hundred, sir.
+Ping.+ Save me, 'twill swinge my bum-gut then: but how Much fat may it bring away?
+Doctor.+ Peradventure, Half-a-dozen pounds.
+Ping.+ Love! what dost thou make Me do? But, worthy doctor, from what parts of My continual purg'd body is this store Of fat extracted?
+Doctor.+ Chiefly from your waist And calves of your legs.
+Ping.+ And how many purges May make my waist and legs' calves, alias, calves Of my legs, delightful to her eye, sir?
+Doctor.+ Sir, some ten purges: that is to say, you Must have a thousand stools to drain your treasure Of fat totaliter from ye.
+Ping.+ O love! O Mirida, for thee I daily purge: For thee I daily stink. I find I must keep company with the bears, that I May be able to endure my own stink the better.
+Doctor.+ Come, sir, I think you had best begin to run Your heats.
+Ping.+ O me! nothing cou'd e'er a made A footman of me but love. Well, I must Put on my pumps.
+Phil.+ By this light, this is the Pleasantest scene as e'er I saw.
+Ping.+ Nay, doctor, If you mean I should run, lend me your hand To help me up. [Puts on nightcaps. Now, in the name of love, I most unwillingly start.
+Phil.+ S'death! he runs Like a duke. [He runs round, and sometimes goes out to untruss.
+Mir.+ His stools come very quickly upon Him, one after another.
+Ping.+ I must run With my breeches in my hand, my purge visits My bum-gut so intolerably often.
+Doctor.+ Now, sir, for a cheerful loose.
+Ping.+ By my heart, Master Doctor, I wonder at your cruelty, To ask a cheerful loose of me; am not I loos'd sufficiently by Your furious purgations?
Enter +Lean-man+ and his +Tailor+.
+Mir.+ O, here comes My lean lover.
+Lean.+ Tailor, do I look gross Enough now?
+Tailor.+ Yes, I'll assure you, you seem Very corpulent.
+Lean.+ Well, I am sure if thou Hast not made me large enough, thou wilt thy bill. Now have at Mistress Mirida! sure, my Person will take her. Why, how now, cousin, [To +Ping+. What makes you running a heat?
+Ping.+ I must not stop To speak with you, but come run by me, And I will tell you. Why, I see You know nothing. Mistress Mirida has a Great kindness for me, but cannot marry me Before I am leaner.
+Lean.+ She fools him; her kindness is for me, And bids me make myself fatter, before We marry. [Aside.
+Ping.+ But pray, coz, what makes you stuff yourself so To appear big?
+Lean.+ Yes, I do it to please Mistress Mirida's eye; she bid me.
+Ping.+ So she makes An ass of him. [Aside.
+Lean.+ Well, I won't hinder you In your exercise, Farewell. Now I'll to Mistress Mirida. [Exit.
+Ping.+ Good bye, good bye. God's fish, my purge again! O, O!
Enter +Clown+ with a cudgel, and beats him in again.
+Clown.+ A nasty rogue, when a man's asleep, To come and do it just in his mouth! I'll swinge ye.
+Ping.+ O, hold, good sir, 'twas the violence of my physic; Would my paunch were out, if I saw you!
+Phil.+ Hold, What do ye mean to beat a Gentleman thus?
+Clown.+ Let Him learn more manners, then, against next time.
+Ping.+ O Mistress Mirida, I have been purg'd And beaten most extremely for your sake; Sure, I'm lean enough now to marry you.
+Mir.+ That I cannot tell; but I have the measure In my pocket of what compass you were About when you first were in love with me, And also the measure to that you must Fall before I marry you. Here was your full Bigness, which was three yards about: let me see; You are fallen a yard.
+Ping.+ Well, and won't you marry me then?
+Mir.+ That you'll see presently; for here's the measure Must compass you about before I do. This wants a yard yet.
+Ping.+ Well, and d'ye think it's possible For me ever to become such a grig As that measure will meet about me? Why, to do that you must embowel me, and then Shave the remaining rolls of fat off from My melting sides.
+Doctor.+ Here, pray, sir, throw this blanket About you; you will catch your death.
+Ping.+ Look you, Unreasonable mistress, thus am I Fain to do every day, because I would Melt myself into a husband for you: You may hear my guts at this time boiling Within me; I am confident they will Have the same fat as a kettle full of Black puddings that are over-boiled, and so Broken.
+Doctor.+ Come, sir, you must needs go to bed.
+Ping.+ That is to say, I must go swim; for that I do constantly in a sea of sweat.
+Mir.+ Ay, pray, sir, I wou'd not for all the world You should miscarry.
+Ping.+ Indeed, I look as If I were with child. Lady, if you have Any thoughts of going to heaven, have Mercy on me.
+Mir.+ Farewell, garbage.
+Ping.+ O heat! O fat! O love! what will you Do with me? [Exit with +Doctor+.
+Phil.+ Was there ever such sport as we have seen?
+Mir.+ Heaven send thee and I many a fair Year to be mad together in.
+Phil.+ Ay, as You say, give us but time enough, and when We grow tame, let the bell toll for us. But stay, let us return Back to my virgins, that I may Make my conditions with 'em, Before they get out of prison.
Enter all the +Ladies+ and bind them.
S'death! they Are all got out already.
+1st Lady.+ O, have we Met with you now, ye pair of devils? we'll lay You fast enough. So good night to you, lie There till we come again. [Exit +Ladies+.
+Phil.+ Pox on't, was there Ever such luck as this? There was a trap- Door in the garret, which they found and got Out at.
+Mir.+ What think ye now of this day's sport Philidor?
+Phil.+ Plague on it, well enough; if They had not bound us back to back together, We might have pass'd away the time. Malicious jades! no way of bridling us But this? Pr'ythee turn about thy head, and let Us try if we can kiss one another A little.
+Mir.+ No, no, we won't Try for fear you should put your neck out of Joint with turning it too much of one side.
+Phil.+ Well, fortune should be more careful Of accidents of this nature, and not Contrive them so cross.
Enter +Boy+.
+Phil.+ O, here comes a boy. Here, sirrah, come hither.
+Boy.+ What say you, master?
+Phil.+ Here, prythee, unbind us, I'll give thee a Shilling.
+Boy.+ Why, sir, can't you unbind yourselves?
+Phil.+ Simple boy, thou seest we can't.
+Boy.+ And have ye a mind to be unbound?
+Phil.+ Yes, yes, we are in great torments To lie thus.
+Boy.+ Then, sir, you shall give me a piece, And your hat, because I have never A one, or else farewell.
+Phil.+ Well, stay, here take it out of my pockets.
+Boy.+ Yes, that I will do, before I unbind you, And your hat too. [Exit.
+Phil.+ The rogue's too nimble for me.
+Mir.+ Well, Philidor, farewell, I must Go put On a clean handkerchief.
+Phil.+ And I Must go see if I can find a believing Haberdasher, else I shall be very Ceremonious to every one I meet. [Exit.
Enter +Fiddler+.
+Mir.+ A fiddle! nay, then I am made again; I'd have a dance, if I had nothing but my Smock on. Fiddler, strike up, and play my jig, Call'd, I care not a pin for any man.
+Fid.+ Indeed I can't stay: I am going to Play to some gentlemen.
+Mir.+ Nay, thou shalt stay But a little.
+Fid.+ Give me half-a-crown then.
+Mir.+ I have no money about me. But here, take My handkerchief. [Dance and Exit.
Act IV
_Enter +Ortellus+ and +Arbatus+, as going into the +Duke's+ bed-chamber, and the +Duke+ in bed._
+Ort.+ So, I will keep the door, whilst you Dispatch him.
+Arb.+ My lord, I find you truly noble. Why, duke; why, duke! I say. Methinks my voice should wake his guilty soul, Nothing but innocence can sleep secure; Then why, good heaven, does he take Such rest? Awake, thou drowsy devil! Duke, my sister's Wrongs do call thee from thy sleep; methinks The sound of those should pierce thy ears. Why, duke!
+Duke.+ What bold voice is that?
+Arb.+ One that will be more Bold with you.
+Duke.+ Who is't so impudent as To break my sleep?
+Arb.+ 'Tis I, Arbatus, that Will put thee into a wonder.
+Duke.+ Ha! what means That dagger in thy hands?
+Arb.+ Canst thou ask that Question? it is to tickle thy false heart.
+Duke.+ Ha, ha, ha! you jest, you jest.
+Arb.+ What, Does the conceit on't make you laugh already? I was resolved to wake thee, before I sent thee to hell, because thou may'st know Of whose errand thou goest.
+Duke.+ Come, come, leave Your foolery, lest you heat my blood.
+Arb.+ If I do, I will let it out all, and that Will quickly cool it. I would give thee time To say thy prayers now, but that I know Thy sin to be so great, that heaven will Not pardon thee.
Enter +Artabella+.
+Ort.+ Who's that?
+Art.+ 'Tis I, my lord: Artabella. Let me in quickly, that I May have one stab at his false heart, before My brother has put him past feeling.
+Ort.+ And so thou shalt, brave girl.
+Arb.+ Now, duke, good night to you, and the devil Send you good rest.
+Art.+ Hold, brother.
+Arb.+ Who's that?
+Art.+ 'Tis I thy injur'd sister, come to make The first hole in that base duke's heart; it is My right.
+Arb.+ Begin, begin then, that I may Make an end.
+Art.+ Stay, brother, not too fast, Has he said his prayers?
+Arb.+ His pray'rs! why none But the devil will hear them. Come, come, sister, Give me the dagger again; you waste time.
+Art.+ And so I will, the duke shan't die.
+Arb.+ How, not die?
+Art.+ Not die, I say.
+Arb.+ Then you are his whore all this while, and wou'd Have him live, that you may be so still.
+Art.+ Brother, Another word so foul, I'll strike this dagger Through your heart, Therefore hear me speak. Know then, 'Tis I that cannot love the duke, which he Would never tell you, knowing 'twould make you angry With me.
+Arb.+ Nay then I'll kill you for fooling A brother and your reputation thus.
+Duke.+ Hold, Arbatus, she says it but to save My life. 'Tis I have fooled you both, therefore Strike here.
+Arb.+ And so I will, then.
+Art.+ Hold, brother; Pull not a load of sins upon your head; 'Tis I have been to blame, indeed I have, With loving him too much.
+Arb.+ Then thou shalt die.
+Duke.+ Hold, sir, heaven will frown on you for ever, If you shed one drop of that pure blood; upon My word, 'tis I.
+Arb.+ Keep not my tortur'd soul Thus in suspense. One of you tell me true, And that quickly too, else I will destroy You both, and that's the surest way not To mistake.
+Duke.+ Then be assur'd 'tis I.
+Art.+ Brother, 'Tis not, 'tis I.
+Arb.+ Heyday! heyday! I know Not what to do or say. [Throws down his sword and goes away.
+Ort.+ So, he is dead, I hope.
+Arb.+ No more than you are.
+Ort.+ How so?
+Arb.+ Come, My lord, as you go, I'll tell you. [Exeunt +Arbatus+ and +Ortellus+.
+Duke.+ O Artabella, why didst take my sin Upon thyself, hiding thy innocence With a face of guilt? My death had been not Punishment enough, because I have wrong'd So fair a life as yours. Which way to ask Forgiveness, I can't tell; there are no pardons for Such sins as mine; the only way to do Thee right, is this. [Offers to kill himself.
+Art.+ Hold, sir, my life Shall follow yours, if you strike.
+Duke.+ Why would'st thou Have me live?
+Art.+ Because I love you, sir.
+Duke.+ And that's the only reason I would die.
+Art.+ Why, would it be kindly done to show My eyes your blood?
+Duke.+ Yes, far more kind than live, and show Thy heart no love. O Artabella, that thou wert My sister! Nothing but brother's love were then Thy due; and I could richly pay thee in That coin, a million more than ever brother did.
+Art.+ Wou'd nature then had made me so, or else Had given me never a heart.
+Duke.+ What wou'dst Thou have me do, poor Artabella?
+Art.+ Nothing But love me, sir.
+Duke.+ See, what thou doest ask A man, a god wou'd do; and yet I can't; 'Tis not thy want of beauty, but my fate. Angels themselves, to look upon thy face, Wou'd take a journey twice a day from heaven.
+Art.+ If you would come, though far a shorter way, You shou'd be much more welcome.
+Duke.+ Sweet tongue, lie still, offer no more such love, As gods themselves to have wou'd think a bliss, Since all thy kindness does but wound my heart, To see thine shipwreck'd in a sea of love, And cannot give it harbour in my breast.
+Art.+ Sir, let me beg one thing of you then.
+Duke.+ With all my soul, be it my dukedom, and 'Tis thine.
+Art.+ 'Tis no such great request; 'Tis only when you meet me, say: I hate Thee, Artabella.
+Duke.+ Why, could that word please thee?
+Art.+ No; but to hear it said by you, would bring My death, then I wou'd thank you for my rest. Would you not come unto my grave, sir?
+Duke.+ O yes, and make thy coffin float with a sea Of tears.
+Art.+ Fair sir, of what?
+Duke.+ Of grief.
+Art.+ O me! A sea of tears, and yet not one of love! Waste not such precious drops upon my grave, it will Not satisfy my hovering soul to see Your eyes drop pity without love. Farewell, sir. O for a grave, that were a resting place; Good heart, be kind, and break apace! [Exit.
+Duke.+ Heaven love thee for me! Base Amphelia, Thou art the author of my horrid sin. [Exit.
Enter +Philidor+ and +Mirida+.
+Phil.+ Thou talk'st of sport, Mirida; if all the Sport we have had already with our lovers, Come not short of this, hang me. You say you have Invited them already to my funeral.
+Mir.+ Yes, yes. [+Philidor+ is laid out like a corpse.
+Phil.+ So, so, methinks my body lies In great state, to see the tribe that will come By-and-by; here will be half a dozen Chief mourners, which should have been my wives, and Some three or four sons and heirs, besides three Or four hopeful daughters; these, with The congregation of nurses, will howl me A pleasant dirge. Mirida, you being my Executrix, must carry yourself very gravely; Here's my will, which you must read to 'em; I'll be The priest myself. Hark, somebody knocks [Knocks within. At the gate.
Enter +Boy+.
+Boy.+ Sir, they are all Come.
+Phil.+ Let 'em in.--Now, Mirida, manage Your business well.
+Mir.+ Let me alone, I'll warrant ye.
Enter +Ladies+ and +Nurse+.
+All Ladies.+ Ah! my poor dear, dear.
+All Nurses.+ Ah! my poor dear master! ah, child, Cry for thy poor dad. [Kiss the hearse.
+Phil.+ What a dog-kennel's here! how they howl! [Aside.
+Mir.+ When The passions of your grief are over, pray Hear me speak, because it concerns you all.
+Phil.+ Pox of thy gravity, Mirida. [Aside.
+Mir.+ Nay, hold your tongue; if You set me once a laughing, I shall spoil Your funeral. [Aside.
Enter +Pinguister+ and +Lean-man+.
So here comes my fat lover and my Lean one! Welcome, gentlemen, I Was afraid I shou'd not have had your company.
+Ping.+ Really, sweet lady, I have taken a purge To-day (as I do constantly, for love Of you) which has retarded me, By reason of its operation, neither can I say it has yet finished.
+Mir.+ Sir, please you To sit down, and you, Master Pinguister.
+Ping.+ Lady, I shall embrace your offer, and shall Press your chair. By my heart, madam, this chair Was fitter for a jackdaw than [for] me. [Sits down and breaks the chair. Nay, they make such chairs now-a-days, that had I A grudge to an upholsterer, I would Desire no greater revenge than to sit Down upon every chair in his shop.
+Mir.+ Truly, Sir, I am sorry for your fall. Ladies and gentlewomen, pray give your Attention to my dear deceas'd cousin's Will. Poor young man! he was kill'd yesterday By a duel: He liv'd but two hours after he was hurt, Which time he made use of, to settle something On all you here, his worthy friends.
+Omnes.+ A good young man.
+Mir.+ Imprimis, I bequeath my soul, as other People use to do, and so my body.
Item, I give to Mistress Mary, for a reason that she knows, £500. Item, £500 to Mistress Margaret, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Sarah, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Martha, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Alice, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Eleanor, for a reason she knows. And so to all the rest. Item, To my nurses, I leave each of them £20 a year apiece for their lives, besides their arrears due to them for nursing. These sums [speaks low] of money and legacies I leave to be rais'd and paid out of my manor of Constantinople, in which the Great Turk is now tenant for life.
If they should hear how their legacies [Laughs aside. Are to be paid, how they'd fall a-drumming on His coffin!
Item, I leave to Master Pinguister, A very fat man.--
+Ping.+ I am so.
+Mir.+ An infallible Receipt to make him lean.
+Ping.+ So I hope the Dead may do what the living cannot.
+Mir.+ I leave to a certain lean gentleman, Whom I have seen in my cousin Mirida's Company, a sure receipt to make him fat.
+Lean.+ I find he knew I was to marry his cousin.
+Mir.+ I desire my body to be carried to the Grave by the six aforesaid gentlewomen.-- So, ladies, now you have heard his will, Be pleased to take up the body: nurses, You are to follow next; now which o' you Will lead me?
+Ping.+ I will, madam.
+Lean.+ By my bones, but you shan't.
+Ping.+ By my fat, but I will, sir.
+Mir.+ Nay, gentlemen, pray, fall not out. Well, one Of you lead me one half of the way. [Exeunt.
+Ping.+ Agreed, Sir, take you her hand first, A very timely proposition, for my purge Works again. Save me! Whereabouts is the closet? [Goes out, and comes in again. What a loose must I run to overtake them Now! else I shall not lead my mistress the last Half-way. Deliver me from love and purges!
_Enter all again with a coffin; +Philidor+ and +Mirida+ shut them into the vault._
+Phil.+ So, there let 'em converse with the dead a While; I would rather have 'em there than above Ground: here will I keep 'em till they have All quitted me under their hands and seals.
+Mir.+ O, the sport that we shall have by-and-by! Well, but I must go home a little, my Father will miss me: where shall we meet Again?
+Phil.+ Just here.
+Mir.+ I will not fail. [Exeunt.
Enter +Amarissa+ just arrived.
+Ama.+ I'm come too late, and yet too soon am here, Since dear Zoranzo's death is now so near. On the same block with him I'll lay my head, That our two bodies may have but one bed. Thus are our nuptial joys decreed by fate, Our wedding and our burial bear one date. Sure, I'm the first of maids that ever gave Her body to her lover in a grave. Alas! in cold embraces we must meet, With icy kisses in a winding-sheet. Yet though this life denies us time to love, The other life will not so cruel prove; Our souls so fast in lovers' knots we'll tie, That when the headsman strikes, they both shall fly, Twined in one another through the air, And be at rest, whilst other souls despair.
Enter +Jailor+.
This is the prison, And here's the jailor, I believe. Pray, sir, Do you belong unto the prison?
+Jailor.+ Belong! Yes, I am the keeper of it.
+Ama.+ Is not Here one Zoranzo a prisoner?
+Jailor.+ Yes, But he won't be here long, for he is To die anon.
+Ama.+ Ah me! sir, I am his Sister; pray help me to him, that I may speak With him before that cruel hour; I love Him so, that I must needs die with him; I'll Petition the duke that I may; sure, he'll not Deny me that request.
+Jailor.+ I can tell you a way that you may be sure To have that favour granted.
+Ama.+ Tell it me, and I'll thank ye.
+Jailor.+ Why, if you'll try to convey him out of prison, As another lady has already, you may Bear them company too.
+Ama.+ Why, has there any lady endeavour'd it?
+Jailor.+ Yes, one that is his mistress, and they are Both to die together.
+Ama.+ Ha! what is't I hear? his mistress, say you?
+Jailor.+ Yes, mistress; they both lie as contentedly By one another, as if they were not two.
+Ama.+ Curse him, good heaven, ye cannot throw too many Curses on him. Here, jailor, take this, And let me speak with the prisoner.
+Jailor.+ Madam, You shall.
_Enter +Zoranzo+ and +Amphelia+ as in prison, in chains._
+Zor.+ Amarissa! are my eyes false, or is it Truly she?
+Ama.+ Your eyes are true; but 'tis your heart that's false.
+Zor.+ I am deceiv'd! that cannot be her tongue.
+Ama.+ Should it speak otherwise to thee, I'd tear It out, devil, Zoranzo; cursed pair Of vipers, that in chains of death can practise Lust, as if no end were nigh. Do not My wrongs startle thy guilty soul, to think Of all the torments it must have, that could With so much falseness murder love? When thou Art gone to hell, as go thou must, 'twill be A task for all the devils there, To torture thee enough. Thy sin is such, Were I thy headsman, when thou com'st to die, I'd be a week a-cutting off thy head, 'Twixt every stroke I'd stop; and then I'd hollow Amarissa in thy ears; thy guilt would be An echo to my wrongs, and answer to My cry: wrong'd Amarissa; Which injur'd name repeated to thy ears, Would make thy soul think hell not half such pain. Farewell, Zoranzo, I'll come to see your Head struck off, and your lady's.
+Zor.+ Base Amarissa, that can conclude me False, because she saw this lady lie in Chains by me, and could not ask me how we Came together. Thus to revile me, and Not know the truth: I'll scorn to tell her now!
Enter +Duke+.
+Ama.+ O sir, be pleas'd to hear a maid's petition, Though a stranger to you.
+Duke.+ Fair maid, what is't?
+Ama.+ Zoranzo that's condemn'd to die, may----
+Duke.+ Not Live; if that be your request, pray do not Ask; I shan't grant it.
+Ama.+ No, sir, 'tis that he May have a thousand deaths, instead of one; Or one that has more pain than thousands.
+Duke.+ What makes you thus incens'd against him?
+Ama.+ Heaven knows I have too much cause, sir. I have Lov'd him long, and the day he was your prisoner, Should have been our wedding. News being brought To me in my own country, that he was To die, in flying haste I took this tedious Journey; with sorrow and with joy I here Arrived; tears in my eyes for his approaching Death, smiles on my cheeks to think of dying With him; but when I came unto the prison gate I met the jailor, and he told me all, Then let me in, and to Rejoice my eyes, I saw two devils lie In chains together, and not half so fast As chain'd in love. All my intended kisses then I chang'd Into as many curses on his heart, Which with my eyes I spoke as well as tongue.
+Duke.+ Alas! poor injur'd maid, we must be one Another's Petitioners; thy fate is mine; That woman which you saw with him has prov'd As false to me, as he to you.
+Ama.+ For heaven's Sake, sir, let 'em die both; no sight would please Us like their blood; the jailor Told me they lie as close together all day As if they were not two.
+Duke.+ O, curse on 'em!
+Ama.+ O, the devil take 'em! pray, sir, give order That they may be brought immediately To execution.
+Duke.+ I will.
+Ama.+ I'll go call the jailor, sir. [Steps to the prison.
Enter +Jailor+.
+Duke.+ Jailor, let the prisoners be brought to Execution straight, I'll be there myself.
+Ama.+ And I too, sir.
+Duke.+ You shall; we'll go together. [Exeunt.