Act II, Scene I — [4260]…

Act II, Scene I — [4260]

Enter SIR THOMAS BORNWELL.

Born. ’T is a strange humour I have undertaken, To dance, and play, and spend as fast as she does; But I am resolv’d: it may do good upon her, And fright her into thrift. Nay, I ’ll endeavour To make her jealous too; if this do not 5 Allay her gamboling, she ’s past a woman, And only a miracle must tame her.

Enter Steward.

Stew. ’T is master Frederick, my lady’s nephew.

Born. What of him?

Stew. Is come from the university.

Born. By whose directions?

Stew. It seems, my lady’s.

Born. Let me speak with him 10 Before he see his aunt. [Exit Stew.]—I do not like it.— Enter [Steward, with] MASTER FREDERICK, [in his college dress.] Master Frederick, welcome! I expected not So soon your presence; what ’s the hasty cause?

Fred. These letters, from my tutor, will acquaint you. [Gives BORNWELL letters.]

Stew. Welcome home, sweet Master Frederick!

Fred. Where ’s my aunt? 15

Stew. She ’s busy about her painting, in her closet; The outlandish man of art is copying out Her countenance.

Fred. She is sitting for her picture?

Stew. Yes, sir; and when ’t is drawn she will be hang’d Next the French cardinal, in the dining-room. But when she hears you ’re come, she will dismiss 21 The Belgic gentleman, to entertain Your worship.

Fred. Change of air has made you witty.

Born. Your tutor gives you a handsome character, Frederick, and is sorry your aunt’s pleasure 25 Commands you from your studies; but I hope You have no quarrel to the liberal arts. Learning is an addition[4261] beyond Nobility of birth. Honour of blood, Without the ornament of knowledge, is 30 A glorious[4262] ignorance.

Fred. I never knew more sweet and happy hours Than I employ’d upon my books. I heard A part of my philosophy, and was so Delighted with the harmony of nature, 35 I could have wasted my whole life upon ’t.

Born. [Aside.] ’T is pity a rash indulgence should corrupt So fair a genius! She ’s here; I ’ll observe.

Enter Lady BORNWELL, KICKSHAW, and LITTLEWORTH.

Fred. My most lov’d aunt!

Lady B. Support me, I shall faint.

Little. What ails your ladyship?

Lady B. Is that Frederick, 40 In black?

Kick. Yes, madam; but the doublet ’s satin.

Lady B. The boy ’s undone!

Fred. Madam, you appear troubled.

Lady B. Have I not cause? Was not I trusted with Thy education, boy, and have they sent thee Home like a very scholar!

Kick. ’T was ill done, 45 Howe’er they us’d him in the university, To send him to his friends thus.

Fred. Why, sir? Black, (For ’t is the colour that offends your eye-sight,) Is not, within my reading, any blemish; Sables are no disgrace in heraldry. 50

Kick. ’T is coming from the college thus, that makes it Dishonourable. While you wore it for Your father, it was commendable; or were Your aunt dead, you might mourn, and justify.

Lady B. What luck[4263] I did not send him into France! 55 They would have given him generous education, Taught him another garb, to wear his lock,[4264] And shape, as gaudy as the summer; how To dance, and wag his feather à-la-mode, To compliment, and cringe; to talk not modestly, 60 Like, “ay forsooth,” and “no forsooth;” to blush, And look so like a chaplain!—There he might Have learn’d a brazen confidence, and observ’d So well the custom of the country, that He might, by this time, have invented fashions For us, and been a benefit to the kingdom; 66 Preserv’d our tailors in their wits, and sav’d The charge of sending into foreign courts For pride and antic fashions.—Observe In what a posture he does hold his hat now! 70

Fred. Madam, with your pardon, you have practis’d Another dialect than was taught me when I was commended to your care and breeding. I understand not this; Latin or Greek Are more familiar to my apprehension: 75 Logic was not so hard in my first lectures As your strange language.

Lady B. Some strong waters; oh!

Little. Comfits will be as comfortable to your stomach, madam. [Offers his box.]

Lady B. I fear he ’s spoil’d for ever! He did name Logic, and may, for aught I know, be gone 80 So far to understand it. I did always Suspect they would corrupt him in the college.— Will your Greek saws and sentences discharge The mercer? Or is Latin a fit language To court a mistress in?—Master Alexander, 85 If you have any charity, let me Commend him to your breeding.—I suspect I must employ my doctor first, to purge The university that lies in ’s head; It alters his complexion.

Kick. If you dare 90 Trust me to serve him—

Lady B. Master Littleworth, Be you join’d in commission.

Little. I will teach him Postures and rudiments.

Lady B. I have no patience To see him in this shape; it turns my stomach. When he has cast his academic skin 95 He shall be yours. I am bound in conscience To see him bred; his own state shall maintain The charge, while he ’s my ward.—Come hither, sir.

Fred. What does my aunt mean to do with me?

Stew. To make you a fine gentleman, and translate you 100 Out of your learned language, sir, into The present Goth and Vandal, which is French.

Born. [Aside.] Into what mischief will this humour ebb? She will undo the boy; I see him ruin’d. My patience is not manly; but I must 105 Use stratagem to reduce her: open ways Give me no hope.

Stew. You shall be obey’d, madam. Exeunt [all but FREDERICK and Steward].

Fred. Master Steward, are you sure we do not dream? Was ’t not my aunt you talkt to?

Stew. One that loves you Dear as her life. These clothes do not become you, 110 You must have better, sir—

Fred. There are not old.

Stew. More suitable to the town and time; we keep No Lent here, nor is ’t my lady’s pleasure you Should fast from anything you have a mind to; Unless it be your learning, which she would have you 115 Forget with all convenient speed that may be, For the credit of your noble family. The case is alter’d since we liv’d i’ th’ country; We do not now invite the poor o’ th’ parish To dinner, keep a table for the tenants; 120 Our kitchen does not smell of beef; the cellar Defies the price of malt and hops; the footmen And coach-drivers may be drunk like gentlemen, With wine; nor will three fiddlers upon holidays, With aid of bag-pipes, that call’d in the country 125 To dance, and plough the hall up with their hob-nails, Now make my lady merry. We do feed Like princes, and feast nothing else but princes; And are these robes fit to to be seen amongst ’em?

Fred. My lady keeps a court then! Is Sir Thomas 130 Affected[4265] with this state and cost?

Stew. He was not, But is converted: and I hope you wo’ not Persist in heresy, but take a course Of riot, to content your friends; you shall Want nothing, if you can be proud, and spend it 135 For my lady’s honour. Here are a hundred Pieces, will serve you till you have new clothes; I will present you with a nag of mine, Poor tender of my service, please you accept; My lady’s smile more than rewards me for it. 140 I must provide fit servants to attend you, Monsieurs, for horse and foot.

Fred. I shall submit, If this be my aunt’s pleasure, and be rul’d; My eyes are open’d with this purse already, And sack will help to inspire me. I must spend it? 145

Stew. What else, sir?

Fred. I ’ll begin with you: to encourage You to have still a special care of me, There is five pieces,—not for your nag.

Stew. No, sir; I hope it is not.

Fred. Buy a beaver For thy own block;[4266] I shall be rul’d. Who does 150 Command the wine cellar?

Stew. Who commands but you, sir?

Fred. I ’ll try to drink a health or two, my aunt’s, Or anybody’s; and if that foundation Stagger me not too much, I will commence In all the arts of London.

Stew. If you find, sir, 155 The operation of the wine exalt Your blood to the desire of any female Delight, I know your aunt wo’ not deny Any of her chambermaids to practise on; She loves you but too well.

Fred. I know not how 160 I may be for that exercise.—Farewell, Aristotle, Prithee commend me to the library At Westminster; my bones I bequeath thither, And to the learned worms that mean to visit ’em. I will compose myself; I begin to think 165 I have lost time indeed.—Come to the wine cellar. Exeunt.

[SCENE II.][4267]

Enter CELESTINA, MARIANA, and ISABELLA.

Mar. But shall we not, madam, expose ourselves To censure for this freedom?

Cel. Let them answer That dare mistake us. Shall we be so much Cowards, to be frighted from our pleasure, Because men have malicious tongues, and show What miserable souls they have? No, cousin, 6 We hold our life and fortunes upon no Man’s charity; if they dare show so little Discretion to traduce our fames, we will Be guilty of so much wit to laugh at ’em. 10

Isab. ’T is a becoming fortitude.

Cel. My stars Are yet kind to me; for, in a happy minute Be ’t spoke, I ’m not in love, and men shall never Make my heart lean with sighing, nor with tears Draw on my eyes the infamy of spectacles. 15 ’T is the chief principle to keep your heart Under your own obedience; jest, but love not. I say my prayers, yet can wear good clothes, And only satisfy my tailor for ’em. I will not lose my privilege. 20

Mar. And yet they say your entertainments are, Give me your pardon, madam, to proclaim Yourself a widow, and to get a husband.

Cel. As if a lady of my years, some beauty, Left by her husband rich, that had mourn’d for him 25 A twelvemonth too, could live so obscure i’ th’ town, That gallants would not know her, and invite Themselves, without her chargeable[4268] proclamations! Then we are worse than citizens: no widow Left wealthy can be thoroughly warm in mourning, 30 But some one noble blood, or lusty kindred, Claps in, with his gilt coach, and Flandrian[4269] trotters, And hurries her away to be a countess. Courtiers have spies, and great ones with large titles, Cold in their own estates, would warm themselves 35 At a rich city bonfire.

Isab. Most true, madam.

Cel. No matter for corruption of the blood: Some undone courtier made her husband rich, And this new lord receives it back again. Admit it were my policy, and that 40 My entertainments pointed to acquaint me With many suitors, that I might be safe And make the best election, could you blame me?

Mar. Madam, ’t is wisdom.

Cel. But I should be In my thoughts miserable, to be fond[4270] 45 Of leaving the sweet freedom I possess, And court myself into new marriage fetters. I now observe men’s several wits and windings,[4271] And can laugh at their follies.

Mar. You have given A most ingenious satisfaction. 50

Cel. One thing I ’ll tell you more, and this I give you Worthy your imitation, from my practice: You see me merry, full of song and dancing, Pleasant in language, apt to all delights That crown a public meeting; but you cannot Accuse me of being prodigal of my favours 56 To any of my guests. I do not summon, By any wink, a gentleman to follow me To my withdrawing chamber; I hear all Their pleas in court, nor can they boast abroad, And do me justice, after a salute,[4272] 61 They have much conversation with my lip. I hold the kissing of my hand a courtesy, And he that loves me, must, upon the strength Of that, expect till I renew his favour. 65 Some ladies are so expensive in their graces To those that honour ’em, and so prodigal, That in a little time they have nothing but The naked sin left to reward their servants; Whereas, a thrift in our rewards will keep 70 Men long in their devotion, and preserve Ourselves in stock, to encourage those that honour us.

Isab. This is an art worthy a lady’s practice.

Cel. It takes not from the freedom of our mirth, But seems to advance it, when we can possess Our pleasures with security of our honour; 76 And, that preserv’d, I welcome all the joys My fancy can let in. In this I have given The copy of my mind; nor do I blush You understand it.

Isab. You have honour’d us. 80

Enter CELESTINA’S Gentlewoman.

Gentlew. Madam, Sir William Scentlove’s come to wait on you.

Cel. There ’s one would be a client.—Make excuse For a few minutes. [Exit Gentlewoman.]

Mar. One that comes a wooing?

Cel. Such a thing he would seem, but in his guiltiness Of little land, his expectation is not 85 So valiant as it might be. He wears rich clothes, And feeds with noblemen; to some, I hear, No better than a wanton emissary, Or scout for Venus’ wild fowl; which made tame, He thinks no shame to stand court sentinel, 90 In hope of the reversion.

Mar. I have heard That some of them are often my lord’s tasters, The first fruits they condition for, and will Exact as fees, for the promotion.

Cel. Let them agree; there ’s no account shall lie 95 For me among their traffic.

Re-enter Gentlewoman.

Gentlew. Master Haircut, madam, Is new come in, to tender you his service.

Cel. Let him discourse a little with Sir William. Exit Gentlewoman.

Mar. What is this gentleman, Master Haircut, madam? I note him very gallant, and much courted 100 By gentlemen of quality.

Cel. I know not, More than a trim gay man; he has some great office, Sure, by his confident behaviour. He would be entertain’d under the title Of servant[4273] to me, and I must confess, 105 He is the sweetest of all men that visit me.

Isab. How mean you, madam?

Cel. He is full of powder; He will save much in perfume for my chamber, Were he but constant here.—Give ’em access.

Enter SIR WILLIAM SCENTLOVE and HAIRCUT.

Scent. Madam, the humblest of your servants is Exalted to a happiness, if you smile 111 Upon my visit.

Hair. I must beg your charity Upon my rudeness, madam; I shall give That day up lost to any happiness, When I forget to tender you my service. 115

Cel. You practise courtship, gentlemen.

Scent. But cannot Find where with more desert to exercise it. What lady ’s this, I pray?

Cel. A kinswoman Of mine, Sir William.

Scent. I am more her servant.

Cel. You came from court, now, I presume?

Hair. ’T is, madam, 120 The sphere I move in, and my destiny Was kind to place me there, where I enjoy All blessings that a mortal can possess, That lives not in your presence; and I should Fix my ambition, when you would vouchsafe 125 Me so much honour, to accept from me An humble entertainment there.

Cel. But by What name shall I be known? In what degree Shall I be of kindred to you?

Hair. How mean you, madam?

Cel. Perhaps you ’ll call me sister, I shall take it 130 A special preferment; or it may be I may pass under title of your mistress, If I seem rich, and fair enough, to engage Your confidence to own me.

Hair. I would hope—

Cel. But ’t is not come to that yet: you will, sir. 135 Excuse my mirth.

Hair. Sweet madam!

Cel. Shall I take Boldness to ask what place you hold in court? ’T is an uncivil curiosity; But you ’ll have mercy to a woman’s question.

Hair. My present condition, madam, carries Honour and profit, though not to be nam’d 141 With that employment I expect i’ th’ state, Which shall discharge the first maturity Upon your knowledge; until then, I beg You allow a modest silence.

Cel. I am charm’d, sir; 145 And if you scape ambassador, you cannot Reach a preferment wherein I ’m against you. But where is Sir William Scentlove?

Hair. Give him leave To follow his nose, madam, while he hunts In view,—he ’ll soon be at a fault.[4274]

Cel. You know him? 150

Hair. Know Scentlove? Not a page but can decipher him; The waiting-women know him to a scruple; He ’s called the blister-maker of the town.

Cel. What ’s that?

Hair. The laundry ladies can resolve you, And you may guess: an arrant epicure, 155 As this day lives, born to a pretty wit, A knight, too; but no gentleman. I must Be plain to you;—your ladyship may have Use of this knowledge, but conceal the author.

Scent. I kiss your fairest hand.

Mar. You make a difference; 160 Pray reconcile them to an equal whiteness.

Scent. You wound my meaning, lady.

Cel. Nay, Sir William Has the art of compliment.

Scent. Madam, you honour me ’Bove my desert of language.

Cel. Will you please To enrich me with your knowledge of that gentleman? 165

Scent. Do you not know him, madam?

Cel. What is he?

Scent. A camphire ball; you shall know more hereafter; He shall tell you himself, and save my character; Till then,—you see he ’s proud.

Cel. One thing, gentlemen, I observe in your behaviour, which is rare 170 In two that court one mistress: you preserve A noble friendship; there ’s no gum within Your hearts; you cannot fret,[4275] or show an envy Of one another’s hope; some would not govern Their passions with that temper!

Scent. The whole world 175 Shall nor divorce our friendship.—Master Haircut! Would I had lives to serve him! He is lost To goodness does not honour him.

Hair. My knight!

Cel. [Aside.] This is right playing at court shuttlecock. 179

Re-enter Gentlewoman.

Gentlew. Madam, there is a gentleman desires To speak wi’ ye, one Sir Thomas Bornwell.

Cel. Bornwell?

Gentlew. He says he is a stranger to your ladyship.

Scent. I know him.

Hair. Your neighbour, madam.

Scent. Husband to The lady that so revels in the Strand.

Hair. He has good parts, they say, but cannot help 185 His lady’s bias.

Cel. They have both much fame I’ th’ town, for several merits. Pray admit him. [Exit Gentlewoman.]

Hair. [Aside.] What comes he for?

Enter SIR THOMAS BORNWELL.

Born. Your pardon, noble lady, that I have Presum’d a stranger to your knowledge,— [Salutes CELESTINA.]

Cel. Sir, 190 Your worth was here before you, and your person Cannot be here ungrateful.

Born. ’T is the bounty Of your sweet disposition, madam.—Make me Your servant, lady, by her fair example, To favour me. [Offers to salute ISABELLA, who turns from him. Aside.]—I never knew one turn 195 Her cheek to a gentleman that came to kiss her, But she ’d a stinking breath.—Your servant, gentlemen. Will Scentlove, how is ’t?

Cel. I am sorry, coz, To accuse you; we in nothing more betray Ourselves to censure of ridiculous pride, 200 Than answering a fair salute too rudely. Oh, it shows ill upon a gentlewoman Not to return the modest lip, if she Would have the world believe her breath is not Offensive.

Born. Madam, I have business 205 With you.

Scent. His looks are pleasant.

Cel. With me, sir?

Born. I hear you have an exc’llent wit, madam; I see you are fair.

Cel. The first is but report; And do not trust your eye-sight for the last, ’Cause I presume y’ are mortal, and may err.

Hair. He is very gamesome.

Born. Y’ have an exc’llent voice, 211 (They say you catcht it from a dying swan,) [With] which, join’d to the harmony of your lute, You ravish all mankind.

Cel. Ravish mankind?

Born. With their consent.

Cel. It were the stranger rape; 215 But there ’s the less indictment lies against it: And there is hope your little honesties[4276] Cannot be much the worse, for men do rather Believe they had a maidenhead, than put Themselves to th’ rack of memory how long 220 ’T is since they left the burden of their innocence.

Born. Why, you are bitter, madam!

Cel. So is physic; I do not know your constitution.

Born. You shall, if ’t please you, madam.

Cel. Y’ are too hasty, I must examine what certificate 225 You have first, to prefer you.

Born. Fine! certificate?

Cel. Under your lady’s hand and seal.

Born. Go to; I see you are a wag.

Cel. But take heed how You trust to ’t.

Born. I can love you in my wedlock, As well as that young gallant o’ th’ first hair, Or the knight-bachelor; and can return 231 As amorous delight to thy soft bosom.

Cel. Your person and your language are both strangers.

Born. But may be more familiar; I have those That dare make affidavit for my body. 235

Cel. D’ ye mean your surgeon?

Born. My surgeon, madam? I know not how you value my abilities, But I dare undertake as much, to express My service to your ladyship, and with As fierce ambition fly to your commands, 240 As the most valiant of these lay siege to you.

Cel. You dare not, sir.

Born. How, madam?

Cel. I will justify ’t. You dare not marry me; and I imagine Some here, should I consent, would fetch a priest Out of the fire.

Born. I have a wife indeed. 245

Cel. And there ’s a statute not repeal’d, I take it.

Born. Y’ are in the right; I must confess y’ have hit And bled me in a master vein.

Cel. You think I took you on the advantage; use your best Skill at defence, I ’ll come up to your valour, 250 And show another work you dare not do: You dare not, sir, be virtuous.

Born. I dare, By this fair hand I dare; and ask a pardon, If my rude words offend your innocence, Which, in a form so beautiful, would shine 255 To force a blush in them suspected it, And from the rest draw wonder.

Hair. I like not Their secret parley; shall I interrupt them?

Isab. By no means, sir.

Scent. Sir Thomas was not wont To show so much a courtier.

Mar. He cannot 260 Be prejudicial to you; suspect not Your own deserts so much; he ’s married.

Born. I have other business, madam. You keep music: I came to try how you can dance.

Cel. You did?—[Aside.] I ’ll try his humour out of breath. 265 Although I boast no cunning, sir, in revels, If you desire to show your art that way, I can wait on you.

Born. You much honour me; Nay, all must join to make a harmony. They dance.

Born. I have nothing now, madam, but to beseech, 270 After a pardon for my boldness, you Would give occasion to pay my gratitude. I have a house will be much honoured, If you vouchsafe your presence; and a wife Desires to present herself your servant. 275 I came with the ambition to invite you, Deny me not; your person you shall trust On fair security.

Cel. Sir, although I use not This freedom with a stranger, you shall have No cause to hold me obstinate.

Born. You grace me. 280 Sir William Scentlove—

Hair. I must take my leave. You will excuse me, madam; court attendances—

Cel. By any means.

Born. Ladies, you will vouchsafe Your company?

Isab. We wait upon you, sir. Exeunt.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

Act III

[SCENE I.][4277]

Table and looking-glass. Enter LORD —— unready.[4278] HAIRCUT preparing his periwig.

Lord. What hour is ’t?

Hair. ’Bout three o’clock, my lord.

Lord. ’T is time to rise.

Hair. Your lordship went but late To bed last night.

Lord. ’T was early in the morning.

Sec. [within.] Expect[4279] awhile, my lord is busy.

Enter Secretary.

Lord. What ’s the matter?

Sec. Here is a lady 5 Desires access to you upon some affairs, She says, may specially concern your lordship.

Lord. A lady? What ’s her name?

Sec. Madam Decoy.

Lord. Decoy? Prithee admit her. [Exit Secretary.] Enter DECOY. Have you business, madam, With me?

Dec. And such, I hope, as will not be 10 Offensive to your lordship.

Lord. I pray speak it.

Dec. I would desire your lordship’s ear more private.

Lord. Wait i’ th’ next chamber till I call.—Now, madam. Exit [HAIRCUT].

Dec. Although I am a stranger to your lordship, I would not lose a fair occasion offer’d 15 To show how much I honour, and would serve you.

Lord. Please you to give me the particular, That I may know the extent of my engagement.[4280] I am ignorant by what desert you should Be encourag’d to have care of me.

Dec. My lord, 20 I will take boldness to be plain; beside Your other excellent parts, you have much fame For your sweet inclination to our sex.

Lord. How d’ ye mean, madam?

Dec. I’ that way your lordship Hath honourably practis’d upon some 25 Not to be nam’d. Your noble constancy To a mistress hath deserv’d our general vote; And I, a part of womankind, have thought How to express my duty.

Lord. In what, madam?

Dec. Be not so strange, my lord. I knew the beauty 30 And pleasures of your eyes; that handsome creature With whose fair life all your delight took leave, And to whose memory you have paid too much Sad tribute.

Lord. What ’s all this?

Dec. This: if your lordship Accept my service, in pure zeal to cure 35 Your melancholy, I could point where you might Repair your loss.

Lord. Your ladyship, I conceive, Doth traffic in flesh merchandize.

Dec. To men Of honour, like yourself. I am well known 39 To some in court, and come not with ambition Now to supplant your officer.

Lord. What is The lady of pleasure you prefer?

Dec. A lady Of birth and fortune, one upon whose virtue I may presume, the lady Aretina.

Lord. Wife to Sir Thomas Bornwell?

Dec. The same, sir. 45

Lord. Have you prepar’d her?

Dec. Not for your lordship, till I have found your pulse. I am acquainted with her disposition, She has a very appliable[4281] nature.

Lord. And, madam, when expect you to be whipt 50 For doing these fine favours?

Dec. How, my lord? Your lordship does but jest, I hope; you make A difference between a lady that Does honourable offices, and one 54 They call a bawd. Your lordship was not wont To have such coarse opinion of our practice.

Lord. The Lady Aretina is my kinswoman.

Dec. What if she be, my lord? The nearer blood, The dearer sympathy.

Lord. I ’ll have thee carted.[4282]

Dec. Your lordship will not so much stain your honour 60 And education, to use a woman Of my quality—

Lord. ’T is possible you may Be sent off with an honourable convoy Of halberdiers.

Dec. Oh, my good lord! 64

Lord. Your ladyship shall be no protection, If you but stay three minutes.

Dec. I am gone.— When next you find rebellion in your blood, May all within ten mile o’ th’ court turn honest![4283] Exit.

Lord. I do not find that proneness, since the fair Bella Maria died; my blood is cold, 70 Nor is there beauty enough surviving To heighten me to wantonness.—Who waits? Re-enter HAIRCUT [and Secretary]. And what said my lady?

Hair. The silent language of her face, my lord, Was not so pleasant, as it show’d upon 75 Her entrance.

Lord. Would any man that meets This lady take her for a bawd?

Hair. She does The trade an honour, credit to the profession. We may in time see baldness, quarter noses, 79 And rotten legs to take the wall of footcloths.

Lord. I ha’ thought better; call the lady back.— I wo’ not lose this opportunity.— Bid her not fear. [Exit Secretary.]—The favour is not common, And I ’ll reward it. I do wonder much Will Scentlove was not here to-day. 85

Hair. I heard him say this morning he would wait Upon your lordship.—She is return’d, sir.

Re-enter Secretary and DECOY.

Sec. Madam, be confident, my lord ’s not angry.

Lord. You return welcome, madam; you are better Read in your art, I hope, than to be frighted 90 With any shape of anger, when you bring Such news to gentlemen. Madam, you shall Soon understand how I accept the office.

Dec. You are the first lord, since I studied carriage, That show’d such infidelity and fury 95 Upon so kind a message. Every gentleman Will show some breeding; but if one right honourable Should not have noble blood—

Lord. You shall return My compliment, in a letter, to my lady 99 Aretina. Favour me with a little patience.— Show her that chamber.

Dec. I ’ll attend your lordship. Exeunt [DECOY and HAIRCUT.—Secretary seats himself at a table].

Lord. Write,—“Madam, where your honour is in danger, my love must not be silent.” Enter [Sir WILLIAM] SCENTLOVE and KICKSHAW. Scentlove and Kickshaw!

Kick. Your lordship’s busy. 104

Lord. Writing a letter;—nay, it sh’ not bar Any discourse. [Walks alternately to the Secretary and to SCENTLOVE and KICKSHAW.]

Sec. “Silent.”

Lord. “Though I be no physician, I may prevent a fever in your blood.” And where have you spent the morning’s conversation? 110

Scent. Where you would have given the best barbary In your stable to have met on honourable terms.

Lord. What new beauty? You acquaint yourselves With none but wonders.

Scent. ’T is too low,—a miracle.

Lord. It will require a strong faith. 115

Sec. “Your blood.”

Lord. “If you be innocent, preserve your fame, lest this Decoy-madam betray it, to your repentance”— By what name is she known?

Scent. Ask Alexander; 120 He knows her.

Kick. Whom?

Scent. The lady Celestina.

Lord. He has a vast knowledge of ladies. ’Las, poor Alexander! When dost thou mean thy body shall lie fallow?

Kick. When there is mercy in a petticoat: I must turn pilgrim for some breath.

Lord. I think ’T were cooler travel, if you examine it, 126 Upon the hoof through Spain.

Scent. Through Ethiopia.

Lord. Nay, less laborious to serve a prenticeship In Peru, and dig gold out of the mine, Though all the year were dog-days. 130

Sec. “To repentance.”

Lord. “In brief, this lady, could you fall from virtue, within my knowledge, will not blush to be a bawd.”

Scent. But hang ’t, ’t is honourable journey-work; 135 Thou art famous by it, and thy name ’s up.

Kick. So, sir! Let me ask you a question, my dear knight: Which is less servile, to bring up the pheasant, And wait, or sit at table uncontroll’d, 140 And carve to my own appetite?

Scent. No more; Thou ’rt witty, as I am.

Sec. “A bawd.”

Scent. How ’s that?

Kick. Oh, you are famous by ’t, and your name ’s up, sir.

Lord. “Be wise, and reward my caution with timely care of yourself, so I shall not 145 repent to be known your loving kinsman and servant”— Gentlemen, the lady Celestina, Is she so rare a thing?

Kick. If you ’ll have my Opinion, my lord, I never saw 150 So sweet, so fair, so rich a piece of nature.

Lord. I ’ll show thee a fairer presently, to shame Thy eyes and judgment; look o’ that. [Gives him a miniature.]—So; I ’ll subscribe. [Signs his name to the letter.] Seal it; I ’ll excuse your pen for the direction.

Kick. Bella Maria’s picture! she was handsome. 155

Scent. But not to be compar’d—

Lord. Your patience, gentlemen; I ’ll return instantly. Exit.

Kick. Whither is my lord gone?

Sec. To a lady i’ th’ next chamber.

Scent. What is she?

Sec. You shall pardon me, I am his secretary. 160

Scent. I was wont to be of his counsel. A new officer. And I not know ’t? I am resolv’d to batter All other with the praise of Celestina: I must retain him.

Re-enter Lord.

Lord. Has not that object Convinc’d your erring judgments?

Kick. What! this picture? 165

Lord. Were but your thoughts as capable as mine Of her idea, you would wish no thought That were not active in her praise, above All worth and memory of her sex.

Scent. She was fair, I must confess; but had your lordship look’d 170 With eyes more narrow, and some less affection. Upon her face,—

Kick. I do not love the copies Of any dead, they make me dream of goblins; Give me a living mistress, with but half The beauty of Celestina. Come, my lord, 175 ’T is pity that a lord of so much flesh Should waste upon a ghost, when they are living Can give you a more honourable consumption.

Scent. Why, do you mean, my lord, to live an infidel? Do, and see what will come on ’t; observe[4284] still, 180 And dote upon your vigils; build a chamber Within a rock, a tomb among the worms, Not far off, where you may, in proof apocryphal, Court ’em not to devour the pretty pile Of flesh your mistress carried to the grave. 185 There are no women in the world; all eyes, And tongues, and lips, are buried in her coffin!

Lord. Why, do you think yourselves competent judges Of beauty, gentlemen?

Both. What should hinder us? 189

Kick. I have seen and tried as many as another, With a mortal back.

Lord. Your eyes are brib’d, And your hearts chain’d to some desires; you cannot Enjoy the freedom of a sense.

Kick. Your lordship Has a clear eyesight, and can judge and penetrate.

Lord. I can, and give a perfect censure of 195 Each line and point; distinguish beauty from A thousand forms, which your corrupted optics Would pass for natural.

Scent. I desire no other Judge should determine us, and if your lordship Dare venture but your eyes upon this lady, 200 I ’ll stand their justice, and be confident You shall give Celestina victory And triumph o’er all beauties past and living.

Kick. I dare, my lord, venture a suit of clothes, You ’ll be o’ercome.

Lord. You do not know my fortitude. 205

Scent. Nor frailty; you dare not trust yourself to see her.

Lord. Think you so, gentlemen? I dare see this creature To make you know your errors, and the difference Of her whose memory is my saint. Not trust My senses! I dare see, and speak with her. 210 Which holds the best acquaintance to prepare My visit to her?

Sent. I will do ’t, my lord.

Kick. She is a lady free in entertainments.

Lord. I would give this advantage to your cause, Bid her appear in all the ornaments 215 Did ever wait on beauty, all the riches Pride can put on, and teach her face more charm Than ever poet drest up Venus in; Bid her be all the Graces, and the Queen Of Love in one, I ’ll see her, Scentlove, and 220 Bring off my heart, arm’d but [with a] single thought Of one that ’s dead, without a wound; and when I have made your folly prisoner, I ’ll laugh at you.

Scent. She shall expect you; trust to me for knowledge.

Lord. I ’m for the present somewhere else engag’d; 225 Let me hear from you. [Exit.]

Scent. So! I am glad he ’s yet So near conversion.

Kick. I am for Aretina.

Scent. No mention of my lord.

Kick. Prepare his lady, ’T is time he were reduc’d[4285] to the old sport; 229 One lord like him more would undo the court. Exeunt.

[SCENE II.][4286]

Enter LADY BORNWELL, with a letter, and DECOY.

Dec. He is the ornament of your blood, madam; I am much bound to his lordship.

Lady B. He gives you A noble character.

Dec. ’T is his goodness, madam.

Lady B. [Aside.] I wanted such an engine. My lord has Done me a courtesy, to disclose her nature; 5 I now know one to trust, and will employ her.— Touching my lord, for reasons which I shall Offer to your ladyship hereafter, I Desire you would be silent; but, to show 9 How much I dare be confident in your secrecy, I pour my bosom forth. I love a gentleman, One whom there wo’ not need much conjuration To meet.—Your ear. [Whispers her.]

Dec. I apprehend you, and I shall Be happy to be serviceable. I am sorry Your ladyship did not know me before now: 15 I have done offices: and not a few Of the nobility but have done feats Within my house, which is convenient For situation, and artful chambers. And pretty pictures to provoke the fancy. 20

Enter LITTLEWORTH.

Little. Madam, all pleasures languish in your absence.

Lady B. Your pardon a few minutes, sir.— You must Contrive it thus. [Walks aside with DECOY.]

Little. I attend, and shall account it Honour to wait on your return.

Lady B. He may not Have the least knowledge of my name or person. 25

Dec. I have practis’d that already for some great ones, And dare again, to satisfy you, madam; I have a thousand ways to do sweet offices.

Little. If this Lady Aretina should be honest, I ha’ lost time. She ’s free as air; I must 30 Have closer conference, and if I have art, Make her affect me in revenge.

Dec. This evening? Leave me to manage things.

Lady B. You will oblige me.

Dec. You shall commend my art, and thank me after. Exit.

Lady B. I hope the revels are maintain’d within? 35

Little. By Sir Thomas and his mistress.

Lady B. How? His mistress?

Little. The lady Celestina; I ne’er saw Eyes shoot more amorous interchange.

Lady B. Is ’t so?

Little. He wears her favour with mere[4287] pride—

Lady B. Her favour?

Little. A feather that he ravish’d from her fan; 40 And is so full of courtship, which she smiles on.

Lady B. ’T is well.

Little. And praises her beyond all poetry.

Lady B. I ’m glad he has so much wit.

Little. [Aside.] Not jealous!

Lady B. [Aside.] This secures me. What would make other ladies pale With jealousy, gives but license to my wand’rings. 45 Let him now tax[4288] me, if he dare; and yet Her beauty ’s worth my envy, and I wish Revenge upon it, not because he loves, But that it shines above my own.

Enter KICKSHAW.

Kick. Dear madam!

Lady B. I have it.—You two gentlemen profess 50 Much service to me; if I have a way To employ your wit and secrecy?—

Both. You ’ll honour us.

Lady B. You gave a high and worthy character Of Celestina.

Kick. I remember, madam.

Lady B. Do either of you love her?

Kick. Not I, madam. 55

Little. I would not, if I might.

Lady B. She ’s now my guest, And, by a trick, invited by my husband, To disgrace me.—You, gentlemen, are held Wits of the town, the consuls that do govern The senate here, whose jeers are all authentic. The taverns and the ordinaries are 61 Made academies, where you come, and all Your sins and surfeits made the time’s example. Your very nods can quell a theatre, No speech or poem good without your seal; 65 You can protect sourrility, and publish; By your authority believ’d, no rapture Ought to have honest meaning.

Kick. Leave our characters.

Little. And name the employment.

Lady B. You must exercise The strength of both your wits upon this lady, And talk her into humbleness or anger, 71 Both which are equal, to my thought. If you Dare undertake this slight thing for my sake, My favour shall reward it; but be faithful, And seem to let all spring from your own freedom. 75

Kick. This all! We can defame her; if you please, My friend shall call her whore, or any thing. And never be endanger’d to a duel.

Lady B. How ’s that?

Kick. He can endure a cudgelling, and no man 80 Will fight after so fair a satisfaction: But leave us to our art, and do not limit us.

Lady B. They are here; begin not till I whisper you.

Enter SIR THOMAS BORNWELL, CELESTINA, MARIANA, and ISABELLA.

Lady B. Je vous prie, madame, d’excuser l’importunité de mes affaires, qui m’ont fait (85) offenser, par mon absence, une dame de laquelle j’ai reçu tant d’obligations.

Cel. Pardonnez moi, madame; vous me faites trop d’honneur. 89

Lady B. C’est bien de la douceur de votre naturel, que vous tenez cette langage; mais j’espère que mon mari n’a pas manqué de vous entretenir en mon absence.

Cel. En vérité, monsieur nous a fort obligé. 94

Lady B. Il eût trop failli, s’il n’eut taché de tout son pouvoir à vous rendre toutes sortes de services.

Cel. C’est de sa bonté qu’il nous a tant favorise.

Lady B. De la vôtre plutôt, madame, que vous fait donner d’interprétation si bénigne à ses efforts. 101

Cel. Je vois bien que la victoire sera toujours à madame, et de langage et de la courtesie.

Lady B. Vraiment, madame, que jamais personne a plus désiré l’honneur de votre compagnie que moi. 106

Cel. Laissons-en, je vous supplie, des complimens, et permettez à votre servante de vous baiser les mains.

Lady B. Vous m’obligez trop. 110

Born. I have no more patience; let ’s be merry again In our own language: madam, our mirth cools. Our nephew!

Enter FREDERICK [intoxicated, and Steward].

Lady B. Passion of my brain! 114

Fred. Save you, gentlemen! save you, ladies!

Lady B. I am undone.

Fred. I must salute; no matter at which end I begin. [Salutes CELESTINA.]

Lady B. There’s a compliment!

Cel. Is this your nephew, madam? 120

Lady B. Je vous prie, madame, d’excuser les habits et le rude comportement de mon cousin. Il est tout fraîchement venu de l’université, où on l’a tout gâté.

Cel. Excusez moi, madame, il est bien accompli. 126

Fred. This language should be French by the motions of your heads, and the mirth of your faces.

Lady B. I am dishonour’d. 130

Fred. ’T is one of the finest tongues for ladies to show their teeth in: if you ’ll Latin it, I am for you, or Greek it; my tailor has not put me into French yet. Mille basia, basia mille.

Cel. Je ne vous entends pas, monsieur; 135 I understand you not, sir.

Fred. Why, so! You and I then shall be in charity; For though we should be abusive, we ha’ the benefit Not to understand one another. Where ’s my aunt? 140 I did hear music somewhere; and my brains, Tun’d with a bottle of your capering claret, Made haste to show their dancing.

Little. Please you, madam, [Offering his box of sweetmeats to CELESTINA.] They are very uncomfortable.[4289]

Stew. Alas, madam, How would you have me help it? I did use 145 All means I could, after he heard the music, To make him drunk, in hope so to contain him; But the wine made him lighter, and his head Flew hither, ere I mist his heels.

Kick. Nay, he spoke Latin to the lady. 150

Lady B. O most unpardonable! Get him off Quickly, and discreetly too; or, if I live——

Stew. It is not in my power; he swears I am An absurd sober fellow; and if you keep A servant in his house to cross his humour, 155 When the rich sword and belt comes home, he ’ll kill him.

Lady B. What shall I do? Try your skill, Master Littleworth.

Little. He has ne’er a sword.—Sweet master Frederick—

Born. ’Tis pity, madam, such a scion should Be lost;—but you are clouded.

Cel. Not I, sir, 160 I never found myself more clear at heart.

Born. I could play with a feather; your fan, lady.— Gentlemen, Aretina, ta, ra, ra, ra! Come, madam.

Fred. Why, my good tutor in election, You might have been a scholar.

Little. But I thank 165 My friends, they brought me up a little better. Give me the town wits, that deliver jests Clean from the bow, that whistle in the air, And cleave the pin at twelvescore! Ladies do But laugh at a gentleman that has any learning; 170 ‘’T is sin enough to have your clothes suspected. Leave us, and I will find a time to instruct you. Come, here are sugar plums; ’t is a good Frederick.

Fred. Why, is not this my aunt’s house in the Strand? The noble rendezvous? Who laughs at me? 175 Go, I will root here if I list, and talk Of rhetoric, logic, Latin, Greek, or any thing, And understand ’em too; who says the contrary? Yet, in a fair way, I contemn all learning, And will be as ignorant as he, or he, 180 Or any taffeta, satin, scarlet, plush. Tissue, or cloth o’ bodkin[4290] gentleman. Whose manners are most gloriously infected.——— Did you laugh at me, lady?

Cel. Not I, sir; But if I did show mirth upon your question, 185 I hope you would not beat me, little gentleman?

Fred. How! “little gentleman?”” You dare not say These words to my new clothes, and fighting sword.

Lady B. Nephew Frederick!

Fred. “Little gentleman!” ’T is an affront both to my blood and person, 190 I am a gentleman of as tall a birth As any boast[4291] nobility; though my clothes Smell o’ the lamp, my coat is honourable, Right honourable, full of or and argent.-——- A “little gentleman!”

Born. Coz, you must be patient; 195 My lady meant you no dishonour, and You must remember she ’s a woman.

Fred. Is she a woman? That ’s another matter.— Do you hear? My uncle tells me what you are.

Cel. So, sir. 200

Fred. You call’d me “little gentleman.”

Cel. I did, sir.

Fred. A little pink[4292] has made a lusty ship Strike her top-sail; the crow may beard the elephant, A whelp may tame the tiger, spite of all 205 False decks and murderers;[4293] and a “little gentleman” Be hard enough to grapple with your ladyship, Top and top-gallant.—Will you go drink, uncle, T’ other enchanted bottle? You and I Will tipple, and talk philosophy.

Born. Come, nephew.— 210 You will excuse a minute’s absence, madam.— Wait you on us.

Stew. My duty, sir. Exeunt SIR THOMAS BORNWELL, FREDERICK, and Steward.

Lady B. Now, gentlemen.

Kick. Madam, I had rather you excuse my language For speaking truth, than virtue suffer in My further silence; and it is my wonder 215 That you, whose noble carriage hath deserv’d All honour and opinion, should now Be guilty of ill manners.

Cel. What was that You told me, sir?

Little. Do you not blush, madam, To ask that question?

Cel. You amaze rather 220 My cheek to paleness. What mean you by this? I am not troubled with the hiccup, gentlemen, You should bestow this fright upon me.

Little. Then Pride and ill memory go together.

Cel. How, sir?

Kick. The gentleman on whom you exercis’d Your thin wit, was a nephew to the lady 226 Whose guest you are; and though her modesty Look calm on the abuse of one so near Her blood, the affront was impious.

Little. I am asham’d on ‘t. You an ingenious lady, and well manner’d! 230 I ’ll teach a bear as much civility.

Cel. You may be master of the college, sir, For aught I know.

Little. What college?

[Cel.][4294] Of the bears. Have you a plot upon me? Do you possess Your wits, or know me, gentlemen?

Re-enter SIR THOMAS BORNWELL, [behind].

Born. How ’s this? 235

Kick. Know you? Yes; we do know you to an atom.

Little. Madam, we know what stuff your soul is made on.

Cel. But do not bark so like a mastiff, pray.——— Sure they are mad.—Let your brains stand awhile, And settle, gentlemen; you know not me; 240 What am I?

Little. Th’ art a puppet, a thing made Of clothes and painting, and not half so handsome As that which play’d Susanna in the fair.

Cel. I heard you visited those canvas tragedies, 244 One of their constant audience, and so taken With Susan, that you wish’d yourself a rival With the two wicked elders.

Kick. You think this Is wit now. Come, you are—

Cel. What, I beseech you? Your character will be full of salt and satire, No doubt. What am I?

Kick. Why, you are a woman— 250

Cel. And that ’s at least a bow wide of your knowledge.

Kick. Would be thought handsome, and might pass i’ th’ country Upon a market day; but so miserably Forfeit to pride and fashions, that if Heaven Were a new gown, you’d not stay in ’t a fortnight. 255

Cel. It must be miserably out of fashion then. Have I no sin but pride?

Kick. Hast any virtue, Or but a good face, to excuse that want?

Cel. You prais’d it yesterday.

Kick. That made you proud.

Cel. More pride!

Kick. You need not:—to close up the praise, 260 I have seen a better countenance in a sybil.

Cel. When you wore spectacles of sack,[4295] mistook The painted cloth,[4296] and kist it for your mistress.

Kick. Let me ask you a question; how much Have you consum’d in expectation 265 That I would love you?

Cel. Why, I think as much As you have paid away in honest debts This seven year. ’T is a pretty impudence, But cannot make me angry.

Little. Is there any Man that will cast away his limbs upon her? 270

Kick. You do not sing so well as I imagin’d, Nor dance; you reel in your coranto,[4297] and pinch Your petticoat too hard: y’ have no good ear To th’ music, and incline too much one shoulder, As you were dancing on the rope, and falling. 275 You speak abominable French, and make A curtsey like a dairy-maid.—[Aside.] Not mad!

Little. Do we not sting her handsomely?

Born. A conspiracy!

Kick. Your state is not so much as ’t is reported, When you confer notes, all your husband’s debts, 280 And your own reconcil’d; but that ’s not it Will so much spoil your marriage.

Cel. As what, sir? Let me know all my faults.

Kick. Some men do whisper You are not over honest.[4298]

Cel. All this shall not Move me to more than laughter, and some pity, 285 Because you have the shapes of gentlemen; And though you have been insolent upon me, I will engage no friend to kick or cudgel you, To spoil your living and your limbs together: I leave that to diseases that offend you, 290 And spare my curse, poor silken vermin! and Hereafter shall distinguish men from monkeys.

Born. [coming forward.] Brave soul!—You brace of horse-leeches!—I have heard Their barbarous language, madam; y’ are too merciful: They shall be silent to your tongue; pray punish ’em. 295

Cel. They are things not worth my character,[4299] nor mention Of any clean breath; so lost in honesty, They cannot satisfy for wrongs enough, Though they should steal out of the world at Tyburn.[4300]

Little. We are hang’d already. 300

Cel. Yet I will talk a little to the pilchards.—[4301] You two, that have not ’twixt you both the hundred Part of a soul, coarse woollen-witted fellows, Without a nap, with bodies made for burdens! You, that are only stuffings for apparel, 305 As you were made but engines[4302] for your tailors To frame their clothes upon, and get them custom, Until men see you move; yet, then you dare not, Out of your guilt[4303] of being the ignobler beast, But give a horse the wall, whom you excel 310 Only in dancing of the brawls,[4304] because The horse was not taught the French way. Your two faces, One fat, like Christmas, t’ other lean, like Candlemas, And prologue to a Lent, both bound together, Would figure Janus, and do many cures 315 On agues, and the green disease,[4305] by frighting; But neither can, with all the characters And conjuring circles, charm a woman, though She ’d fourscore years upon her, and but one Tooth in her head, to love, or think well of you: 320 And I were miserable to be at cost To court such a complexion as your malice Did impudently insinuate. But I waste time, And stain my breath in talking to such tadpoles. Go home, and wash your tongues in barley-water, 325 Drink[4306] clean tobacco, be not hot i’ th’ mouth, And you may scape the beadle; so I leave you To shame, and your own garters!—Sir, I must Entreat you, for my honour, do not penance them, They are not worth your anger. How shall I 330 Acquit your lady’s silence?

Born. Madam, I Am sorry to suspect, and dare revenge.

Cel. No cause of mine.

Born. It must become me to attend you home.

Cel. You are noble.—Farewell, mushrooms. [Exit with SIR THOMAS BORNWELL.]

Lady B. Is she gone? 335

Little. I think we pepper’d her.

Kick. I ’m glad ’t is over; But I repent no service for you, madam.— Enter Servant, with a letter [and a jewel, which he delivers to KICKSHAW]. To me? From whence?—A jewel! a good preface. Be happy the conclusion. He smiles upon ’t.

Lady B. Some love letter.

Little. He has a hundred mistresses: you may 340 Be charitable, madam, I ha’ none; He surfeits, and I fall away i’ th’ kidneys.

Kick. I ’ll meet.— [Exit Servant.] [Aside.] ’T is some great lady, questionless, that has Taken notice, and would satisfy her appetite.

Lady B. Now, Master Alexander, you look bright o’ the sudden; 346 Another spirit ’s in your eye.

Kick. Not mine, madam; Only a summons to meet a friend.

Lady B. What friend?

Little. By this jewel, I know her not.

Lady B. ’T is a she-friend. I ’ll follow, gentlemen; 350 We may have a game at cent[4307] before you go.

Kick. I shall attend you, madam.

Little. ’T is our duty. [Exeunt KICKSHAW and LITTLEWORTH.]

Lady B. I blush while I converse with my own thoughts. Some strange fate governs me, but I must on; The ways are cast already, and we thrive 355 When our sin fears no eye nor perspective. Exit.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

Act IV

[SCENE I.][4308]

Enter two men leading KICKSHAW blinded, and go off suddenly.

Kick. I am not hurt; my patience to obey ’em, Not without fear to ha’ my throat cut else, Did me a courtesy. Whither ha’ they brought me? [Pulls off a bandage.] ’T is devilish dark; the bottom of a well At midnight, with but two stars on the top, 5 Were broad day to this darkness. I but think How like a whirlwind these rogues caught me up, And smothered my eyesight. Let me see, These may be spirits, and, for aught I know, Have brought me hither over twenty steeples. 10 Pray Heaven they were not bailiffs! that ’s more worth My fear, and this a prison. All my debts Reek in my nostril, and my bones begin To ache with fear to be made dice; and yet This is too calm and quiet for a prison.— 15 What if the riddle prove I am robb’d? And yet I did not feel ’em search me. How now! music! [Music within.] Enter DECOY, like an old Woman, with a light. And a light! What beldam ’s this? I cannot pray.— What art?

Dec. A friend. Fear not, young man, I am No spirit.

Kick. Off!

Dec. Despise me not for age, 20 Or this coarse outside, which I wear not out Of poverty. Thy eyes be witness, ’t is No cave, or beggar’s cell, th’ art brought to; let That gold speak here ’s no want, which thou mayst spend, And find a spring to tire even prodigality, 25 If thou be’st wise. [Gives him a purse.]

Kick. The devil was a coiner From the beginning; yet the gold looks current.

Dec. Th’ art still in wonder: know, I am mistress of This house, and of a fortune that shall serve And feed thee with delights; ’t was I sent for thee; 30 The jewel and the letter came from me. It was my art thus to contrive our meeting, Because I would not trust thee with my fame, Until I found thee worth a woman’s honour.

Kick [Aside.] Honour and fame! the devil means to have 35 A care on ’s credit. Though she sent for me, I hope she has another customer To do the trick withal; I would not turn Familiar to a witch.

Dec. What say’st? Canst thou Dwell in my arms to-night? Shall we change kisses, 40 And entertain the silent hours with pleasure, Such as old Time shall be delighted with, And blame the too swift motion of his wings, While we embrace?

Kick. [Aside.] Embrace! She has had no teeth This twenty years, and the next violent cough 45 Brings up her tongue; it cannot possibly Be sound at root. I do not think but one Strong sneeze upon her, and well meant, would make Her quarters fall away; one kick would blow 49 Her up like gunpowder, and loose all her limbs. She is so cold, an incubus would not heat her; Her phlegm would quench a furnace, and her breath Would damp a musket bullet.

Dec. Have you, sir, Consider’d?

Kick. What?

Dec. My proposition. 54 Canst love?

Kick. I could have done; whom do you mean? I know you are pleas’d but to make sport.

Dec. Thou art not So dull of soul as thou appear’st.

Kick. [Aside.] This is But some device; my grannam has some trick in ’t.— Yes, I can love.

Dec. But canst thou affect me?

Kick. Although to reverence so grave a matron 60 Were an ambitious word in me, yet since You give me boldness, I do love you.

Dec. Then Thou art my own.

Kick. [Aside.] Has she no cloven foot?

Dec. And I am thine, and all that I command Thy servants; from this minute thou art happy, And fate in thee will crown all my desires. 66 I griev’d a proper man should be compell’d To bring his body to the common market. My wealth shall make thee glorious; and, the more To encourage thee, howe’er this form may fright 70 Thy youthful eyes, yet thou wo’t find, by light Of thy own sense, for other light is banish’d My chamber, when our arms tie lovers’ knots, And kisses seal the welcome of our lips, I shall not there affright thee, nor seem old, 75 With rivell’d[4309] veins; my skin is smooth and soft As ermines, with a spirit to meet thine, Active, and equal to the Queen of Love’s When she did court Adonis.

Kick. [Aside.] This doth more Confirm she is a devil, and I am 80 Within his own dominions. I must on, Or else be torn, a’ pieces. I have heard These succubae must not be crost.

Dec. We trifle Too precious time away; I’ll show you a prospect Of the next chamber, and then out the candle. 85

Kick. Have you no sack i’ th’ house? I would go arm’d Upon this breach.

Dec. It sh’ not need.

Kick. One word. Mother; have not you been a cat in your days?

Dec. I am glad you are so merry, sir. You observe That bed? [Opens a door.]

Kick. A very brave one.

Dec. When you are 90 Disrob’d, you can come thither in the dark. You sha’ not stay for me? Come, as you wish For happiness. Exit.

Kick. I am preferr’d, if I Be modest and obey: she cannot have 94 The heart to do me harm, an she were Hecate Herself. I will have a strong faith, and think I march upon a mistress, the less evil. If I scape fire now, I defy the devil. Exit.

[SCENE II.][4310]

Enter FREDERICK [gaily dressed,] LITTLEWORTH, and Steward.

Fred. And how d’ye like me now?

Stew. Most excellent.

Fred. Your opinion, Master Littleworth.

Little. Your French tailor Has made you a perfect gentleman; I may Converse now with you, and preserve my credit. D’ye find no alteration in your body 5 With these new clothes?

Fred. My body alter’d? No.

Little. You are not yet in fashion then. That must Have a new motion, garb, and posture too, Or all your pride is cast away; it is not The cut of your apparel makes a gallant, 10 But the geometrical wearing of your clothes.

Stew. Master Littleworth tells you right; you wear your hat Too like a citizen.

Little. ’T is like a midwife; Place it with best advantage of your hair. 14 Is half your feather moulted? This does make No show; it should spread over, like a canopy; Your hot-rein’d monsieur wears it for a shade And cooler to his back. Your doublet must Be more unbutton’d hereabouts; you’ll not Be a sloven else, a foul shirt is no blemish; 20 You must be confident, and outface clean linen. Your doublet and your breeches must be allow’d No private meeting here: your cloak’s too long. It reaches to your buttock, and doth smell Too much of Spanish gravity; the fashion 25 Is to wear nothing but a cape; a coat May be allow’d a covering for one elbow, And some, to avoid the trouble, choose to walk In querpo,[4311] thus.

Stew. [Aside.] Your coat and cloak’s a brushing In Long-Lane, Lombard.[4312]

Fred. But what if it rain? 30

Little. Your belt about your shoulder is sufficient To keep off any storm; beside, a reed But wav’d discreetly, has so many pores, It sucks up all the rain that falls about one. 34 With this defence, when other men have been Wet to the skin through all their cloaks, I have Defied a tempest, and walk’d by the taverns Dry as a bone.

Stew. [Aside.] Because he had no money To call for wine.

Fred. Why, do you walk enchanted? Have you such pretty charms in town? But stay; 40 Who must I have to attend me?

Little. Is not that Yet thought upon?

Stew. I have laid out[4313] for servants.

Little. They are everywhere.

Stew. I cannot yet be furnish’d With such as I would put into his hands.

Fred. Of what condition must they be, and how 45 Many in number, sir?

Little. Beside your fencing, Your singing, dancing, riding, and French master, Two may serve domestic, to be constant waiters Upon a gentleman; a fool, a pimp.

Stew. For these two officers I have enquir’d, And I am promis’d a convenient whiskin.[4314] 51 I could save charges, and employ the pie-wench. That carries her intelligence in whitepots;[4315] Or ’t is but taking order[4316] with the woman That [trolls][4317] the ballads, she could fit him with 55 A concubine to any tune; but I Have a design to place a fellow with him That has read all Sir Pandarus’ works; a Trojan[4318] That lies conceal’d, and is acquainted with Both city and suburban fripperies,[4319] 60 Can fetch ’em with a spell at midnight to him, And warrant which are for his turn; can, for A need, supply the surgeon too.

Fred. I like thy providence;[4320] such a one deserves A livery twice a year. 65

Stew. It sha’ not need; a cast suit of your worship’s Will serve; he’ll find a cloak to cover it, Out of his share with those he brings to bed to you.

Fred. But must I call this fellow pimp?

Little. It is Not necessary; [Tom,] or Jack, or Harry, 70 Or what he ’s known abroad by, will sound better, That men may think he is a Christian.

Fred. But hear you, Master Littleworth: is there not A method and degrees of title in Men of this art?

Little. According to the honour 75 Of men that do employ ’em. An emperor May give this office to a duke; a king May have his viceroy to negociate for him; A duke may use a lord; the lord a knight, A knight may trust a gentleman; and when 80 They are abroad, and merry, gentlemen May pimp to one another.

Fred. Good, good fellowship! But for the fool now, that should wait on me, And break me jests?

Little. A fool is necessary.

Stew. By any[4321] means.

Fred. But which of these two servants 85 Must now take place?[4322]

Little. That question, Master Frederick, The school of heraldry should conclude upon: But if my judgment may be heard, the fool Is your first man; and it is known a point Of state to have a fool.

Stew. But, sir, the other 90 Is held the finer servant; his employments Are full of trust, his person clean and nimble, And none so soon can leap into preferment, Where fools are poor.

Little. Not all; there’s story for’t; Princes have been no wiser than they should be. Would any nobleman, that were no fool, 95 Spend all in hope of the philosopher’s stone, To buy new lordships in another country? Would knights build colleges, or gentlemen Of good estates challenge the field, and fight, 100 Because a whore wo’ not be honest? Come, Fools are a family over all the world; We do affect one naturally; indeed The fool is leiger[4323] with us.

Stew. Then the pimp Is extraordinary.

Fred. Do not you fall out 105 About their places.—Here’s my noble aunt!

Enter LADY BORNWELL.

Little. How do you like your nephew, madam, now?

Lady B. Well!—Turn about, Frederick.— Very well!

Fred. Am I not now a proper gentleman? The virtue of rich clothes! Now could I take The wall of Julius Caesar, or affront 111 Great Pompey’s upper lip, and defy the senate. Nay, I can be as proud as your own heart, madam, You may take that for your comfort; I put on That virtue with my clothes, and I doubt not But in a little time I shall be impudent 116 As any page, or player’s boy. I am Beholding to this gentleman’s good discipline; But I shall do him credit in my practice. Your steward has some pretty notions, too, 120 In moral mischief.

Lady B. Your desert in this Exceeds all other service, and shall bind me Both to acknowledge and reward.

Little. Sweet madam, Think me but worth your favour; I would creep Upon my knees to honour you, and for every 125 Minute you lend to my reward, I’ll pay A year of serviceable tribute.

Lady B. You Can compliment.

Little. (Aside.) Thus still she puts me off; Unless I speak the downright word, she’ll never Understand me. A man would think that creeping 130 Upon one’s knees were English to a lady.

Enter KICKSHAW.

Kick. How is’t, Jack.—Pleasures attend you, madam! How does my plant of honour?

Lady B. Who is this?

Kick. ’T is Alexander.

Lady B. Rich and glorious!

Little. ’T is Alexander the Great.

Kick. And my Bucephalus 135 Waits at the door.

Lady B. Your case is alter’d, sir.

Kick. I cannot help these things, the Fates will have it; ’T is not my land does this.

Little. But thou hast a plough That brings it in.

Lady B. Now he looks brave and lovely.

Fred. Welcome, my gallant Macedonian, 140

Kick. Madam, you gave your nephew for my pupil. I read[4324] but in a tavern; if you’ll honour us, The Bear at the Bridge foot shall entertain you. A drawer[4325] is my Ganymede, he shall skink[4326] Brisk nectar to us; we will only have 145 A dozen partridge in a dish; as many pheasants, Quails, cocks, and godwits shall come marching up Like the train’d-band;[4327] a fort of sturgeon Shall give most bold defiance to an army, And triumph o’er the table.—

Lady B. Sir, it will 150 But dull the appetite to hear more, and mine Must be excus’d. Another time I may be Your guest.

Kick. ’T is grown in fashion now with ladies; When you please, I ’ll attend you. Littleworth.— Come, Frederick.

Fred. We ’ll have music; I love noise. 155 We will outroar the Thames, and shake the bridge, boy. Exit [with KICKSHAW].

Little. Madam, I kiss your hand; would you would think Of your poor servant: flesh and blood is frail, And troublesome to carry, without help.

Lady B. A coach will easily convey it, or 160 You may take water at Strand Bridge.

Little. But I Have taken fire.

Lady B. The Thames will cool [it, sir].

Little. But never quench my heart; your charity Can only do that.

Lady B. I will keep it cold Of purpose.

Little. Now you bless me, and I dare 165 Be drunk in expectation. [Exit.]

Lady B. I am confident He knows me not, and I were worse than mad To be my own betrayer.—Here ’s my husband.

Enter SIR THOMAS BORNWELL.

Born. Why, how now, Aretina? What! alone? The mystery of this solitude? My house 170 Turn desert o’ the sudden! All the gamesters Blown up! Why is the music put to silence? Or have their instruments caught a cold, since we Gave ’em the last heat? I must know thy ground Of melancholy.

Lady B. You are merry, as 175 You came from kissing Celestina.

Born. I Feel her yet warm upon my lip; she is Most excellent company: I did not think There was that sweetness in her sex. I must Acknowledge, ’t was thy cure to disenchant me 180 From a dull husband to an active lover. With such a lady I could spend more years Than since my birth my glass hath run soft minutes, And yet be young; her presence hath a spell To keep off age; she has an eye would strike 185 Fire through an adamant.

Lady B. I have heard as much Bestow’d upon a dull-fac’d chambermaid, Whom love and wit would thus commend. True beauty Is mock’d when we compare thus, itself being Above what can be fetch’d[4328] to make it lovely; Or,[4329] could our thoughts reach something to declare 191 The glories of a face, or body’s elegance (That touches but our sense), when beauty spreads Over the soul, and calls up understanding To look [what][4330] thence is offer’d, and admire! 195 In both I must acknowledge Celestina Most excellently fair, fair above all The beauties I ha’ seen, and one most worthy Man’s love and wonder.

Born. Do you speak, Aretina, This with a pure sense to commend? Or is ’t 200 The mockery of my praise?

Lady B. Although it shame Myself, I must be just, and give her all The excellency of women; and were I A man—

Born. What then?

Lady B. I know not with what loss I should attempt her love. She is a piece 205 So angelically moving, I should think Frailty excus’d to dote upon her form, And almost virtue to be wicked with her. Exit.

Born. What should this mean? This is no jealousy, Or she believes I counterfeit. I feel 210 Something within me, like a heat, to give Her cause, would Celestina but consent. What a frail thing is man! It is not worth Our glory to be chaste, while we deny Mirth and converse with women. He is good 215 That dares the tempter, yet corrects his blood. Exit.

[SCENE III.][4331]

[Enter] CELESTINA, MARIANA, and ISABELLA.

Cel. I have told you all my knowledge: since he is pleas’d To invite himself, he shall be entertain’d, And you shall be my witnesses.

Mar. Who comes with him?

Cel. Sir William Scentlove, that prepar’d me for The honourable encounter. I expect 5 His lordship every minute.

Enter SIR WILLIAM SCENTLOVE.

Scent. My lord is come.

Cel. He has honour’d me.

Enter Lord—and HAIRCUT.

Scent. My Lord, your periwig is awry.

Lord. You, sir— While HAIRCUT is busy about his hair, SIR WILLIAM SCENTLOVE _goes to_ CELESTINA.

Scent. You may guess at the gentleman that ’s with him. It is his barber, madam, d’ ye observe? An your ladyship wants a shaver.

Hair. She is here, sir. 10 I am betray’d.—Scentlove, your plot. I may Have opportunity to be reveng’d. Exit.

Scent. She in the midst.

Lord. She ’s fair, I must confess; But does she keep this distance out of state?

Cel. Though I am poor in language to express 15 How much your lordship honours me, my heart Is rich and proud in such a guest. I shall Be out of love with every air abroad, And for his grace done my unworthy house, Be a fond prisoner, become anchorite, 20 And spend my hours in prayer, to reward The blessing and the bounty of this presence.

Lord. Though you could turn each place you move in to A temple, rather than a wall should hide So rich a beauty from the world, it were 25 Less want to lose our piety and your prayer. A throne were fitter to present you to Our wonder, whence your eyes, more worth than all They look on, should chain every heart a prisoner.

Scent. ’T was pretty well come off.

Lord. By your example 30 I shall know how to compliment; in this, You more confirm my welcome.

Cel. I shall love My lips the better, if their silent language Persuade your lordship but to think so truly.

Lord. You make me smile, madam.

Cel. I hope you came not 35 With fear that any sadness here should shake One blossom from your eye. I should be miserable To present any object should displease you.

Lord. You do not, madam.

Cel. As I should account It no less sorrow, if your lordship should 40 Lay too severe a censure on my freedom. I wo’ not court a prince against his justice, Nor bribe him with a smile to think me honest. Pardon, my lord, this boldness, and the mirth That may flow from me. I believe my father 45 Thought of no winding-sheet when he begot me.

Lord. She has a merry soul.—It will become Me ask your pardon, madam, for my rude Approach, so much a stranger to your knowledge.

Cel. Not, my lord, so much stranger to my knowledge; 50 Though I have but seen your person afar off, I am acquainted with your character, Which I have heard so often, I can speak it.

Lord. You shall do me an honour.

Cel. If your lordship will Be patient.

Lord. And glad to hear my faults. 55

Cel. That as your conscience can agree upon ’em; However, if your lordship give me privilege, I’ll tell you what’s the opinion of the world.

Lord. You cannot please me better.

Cel. Y’are a lord Born with as much nobility as would, 59 Divided, serve to make ten noblemen, Without a herald; but with so much spirit And height of soul, as well might furnish twenty. You are learn’d, a thing not compatible now With native honour; and are master of 65 A language that doth chain all ears,[4332] and charm All hearts, where you persuade; a wit so flowing, And prudence to correct it, that all men Believe they only meet in you, which, with 69 A spacious memory, make up the full wonders: To these you have [joined][4333] valour and upon A noble cause, know how to use a sword To honour’s best advantage, though you wear[4334] none. You are as bountiful as the showers that fall Into the spring’s green bosom; as you were 75 Created lord of Fortune, not her steward; So constant to the cause in which you make Yourself an advocate, you dare all dangers; And men had rather you should be their friend, Than justice or the bench bound up together. 80

Lord. But did you hear all this?

Cel. And more, my lord.

Lord. Pray let me have it, madam.

Cel. To all these virtues there is added one,— (Your lordship will remember, when I name it, I speak but what I gather from the voice 85 Of others)—it is grown to a full fame That you have lov’d a woman.

Lord. But one, madam?

Cel. Yes, many; give me leave to smile, my lord, I shall not need to interpret in what sense; But you have show’d yourself right honourable, 90 And, for your love to ladies, have deserv’d, If their vote might prevail, a marble statue. I make no comment on the people’s text,— My lord, I should be sorry to offend.

Lord. You cannot, madam; these are things we owe 95 To nature for.

Cel. And honest men will pay Their debts.

Lord. If they be able, or compound.

Cel. She had a hard heart would be unmerciful, And not give day to men so promising; But you ow’d women nothing.

Lord. Yes, I am 100 Still in their debt, and I must owe them love, It was part of my character.

Cel. With your lordship’s Pardon, I only said you had a fame For loving women; but of late, men say You have, against the imperial laws of love, 105 Restrain’d the active flowings of your blood, And with a mistress buried all that is Hop’d for in love’s succession, as all beauty Had died with her, and left the world benighted! In this you more dishonour all our sex 110 Than you did grace a part; when everywhere Love tempts your eye to admire a glorious harvest, And everywhere as full blown ears submit Their golden heads, the laden trees bow down Their willing fruit, and court your amorous tasting. 115

Lord. I see men would dissect me to a fibre; But do you believe this?

Cel. It is my wonder, I must confess, a man of nobler earth Than goes to vulgar composition, (Born and bred high, so unconfin’d, so rich 120 In fortunes, and so read in all that sum Up human knowledge, to feed gloriously, And live at court, the only sphere wherein True beauty moves, nature’s most wealthy garden, Where every blossom is more worth than all 125 The Hesperian fruit by jealous dragon watch’d, Where all delights do circle appetite, And pleasures multiply by being tasted,) Should be so lost with thought of one turn’d ashes. There’s nothing left, my lord, that can excuse you, 130 Unless you plead, what I am asham’d to prompt Your wisdom to?

Lord. What ’s that?

Cel. That you have play’d The surgeon with yourself.

Lord. And am made eunuch?

Cel. It were much pity.

Lord. Trouble not yourself, I could convince your fears with demonstration 135 That I am man enough, but knew not where, Until this meeting, beauty dwelt. The court You talk’d of must be where the Queen of Love is, Which moves but with your person; in your eye Her glory shines, and only at that flame 140 Her wanton boy doth light his quick’ning torch.

Cel. Nay, now you compliment; I would it did, My lord, for your own sake.

Lord. You would be kind, And love me then?

Cel. My lord, I should be loving, Where I found worth to invite it, and should cherish 145 A constant man.

Lord. Then you should me, madam.

Cel. But is the ice about your heart fallen off? Can you return to do what love commands?— Cupid, thou shalt have instant sacrifice, And I dare be the priest.

Lord. Your hand, your lip; [Kisses her.] 150 Now I am proof ’gainst all temptation.

Cel. Your meaning, my good lord?

Lord. I, that have strength Against thy voice and beauty, after this May dare the charms of womankind.—Thou art, Bella Maria, unprofaned yet; 155 This magic has no power upon my blood.— Farewell, madam! if you durst be the example Of chaste as well as fair, thou wert a brave one.

Cel. I hope your lordship means not this for earnest; Be pleas’d to grace a banquet.

Lord. Pardon, madam.— 160 Will Scentlove, follow; I must laugh at you.

Cel. My lord, I must beseech you stay, for honour, For her whose memory you love best.

Lord. Your pleasure.

Cel. And by that virtue you have now profest, I charge you to believe me too; I can 165 Now glory that you have been worth my trial, Which, I beseech you, pardon. Had not you So valiantly recover’d in this conflict, You had been my triumph, without hope of more Than my just scorn upon your wanton flame; Nor will I think these noble thoughts grew first 171 From melancholy, for some female loss, As the fantastic world believes, but from Truth, and your love of innocence, which shine So bright in the two royal luminaries[4335] 175 At court, you cannot lose your way to chastity. Proceed, and speak of me as honour guides you. Exit LORD. I am almost tir’d.—Come, ladies, we ’ll beguile Dull time, and take the air another while. Exeunt.

Spotted a typo or a problem in this chapter? Tell us

Act V

[SCENE I.][4336]

Enter Lady BORNWELL, and a Servant [with a purse].

Lady B. But hath Sir Thomas lost five hundred pounds Already?

Serv. And five hundred more he borrow’d. The dice are notable devourers, madam; They make no more of pieces than of pebbles, But thrust their heaps together, to engender. 5 “Two hundred more the caster!”[4337] cries this gentleman. “I am wi’ ye.—I ha’ that to nothing, sir. The caster Again.” ’T is covered, and the table too, With sums that frighted me. Here one sneaks out, And with a martyr’s patience smiles upon 10 His money’s executioner, the dice; Commands a pipe of good tobacco, and I’ th’ smoke on ’t vanishes. Another makes The bones vault o’er his head, swears that ill-throwing Has put his shoulder out of joint, calls for 15 A bone-setter. That looks to th’ box, to bid His master send him some more hundred pounds, Which lost, he takes tobacco, and is quiet. Here a strong arm throws in and in, with which He brusheth all the table, pays the rooks[4338] 20 That went their smelts[4339] a piece upon his hand, Yet swears he has not drawn a stake this seven year. But I was bid make haste; my master may Lose this five hundred pounds ere I come thither. Exit.

Lady B. If we both waste so fast, we shall soon find 25 Our state is not immortal. Something in His other ways appear not well ready.

Enter Sir THOMAS BORNWELL, [and Servants, one with a purse.]

Born. Ye tortoises, why make ye no more haste? Go pay to th’ master of the house that money, And tell the noble gamesters I have another 30 Superfluous thousand pound; at night I ’ll visit ’em. D’ ye hear?

Serv. Yes, an please you.

Born. Do ’t ye drudges [Exeunt Servants.] Ta, ra, ra!—Aretina!

Lady B. You have a pleasant humour, sir.

Born. What! should a gentleman be sad?

Lady B. You have lost—

Born. A transitory sum; as good that way 35 As another.

Lady B. Do you not vex within for ’t?

Born. I had rather lose a thousand more, than one Sad thought come near my heart for ’t. Vex for trash! Although it go from other men like drops Of their life blood, we lose with the alacrity 40 We drink a cup of sack, or kiss a mistress. No money is considerable with a gamester; They have souls more spacious than kings. Did two Gamesters divide the empire of the world, They ’d make one throw for ’t all, and he that lost 45 Be no more melancholy than to have play’d for A morning’s draught. Vex a rich soul for dirt, The quiet of whose every thought is worth A province!

Lady B. But when dice have consum’d all, Your patience will not pawn for as much more.

Born. Hang pawning! Sell outright, and the fear ’s over. 51

Lady B. Say you so? I ’ll have another coach to-morrow If there be rich above ground.

Born. I forgot To bid the fellow ask my jeweller Whether the chain of diamonds be made up; 55 I will present it to my Lady Bellamour, Fair Celestina.

Lady B. This gown I have worn Six days already; it looks dull, I ’ll give it My waiting-woman, and have one of cloth Of gold embroidered; shoes and pantables[4340] 60 Will show well of the same.

Born. I have invited A covey of ladies, and as many gentlemen To-morrow, to the Italian ordinary; I shall have rarities and regalias[4341] To pay for, madam; music, wanton songs, 65 And tunes of silken petticoats to dance to.

Lady B. And to-morrow have I invited half the court To dine here. What misfortune ’t is your company And ours should be divided! After dinner I entertain ’em with a play.

Born. By that time 70 Your play inclines to the epilogue, shall we Quit our Italian host; and whirl in coaches To the Dutch magazine of sauce, the Steelyard, Where deal,[4342] and backrag,[4343] and what strange wine else They dare but give a name to in the reckoning, Shall flow into our room, and drown Westphalias,[4344] 76 Tongues, and anchovies, like some little town Endangered by a sluice, through whose fierce ebb We wade, and wash ourselves into a boat, And bid our coachmen drive their leather tenements 80 By land, while we sail home, with a fresh tide, To some new rendezvous.

Lady B. If you have not ’Pointed the place, pray bring your ladies hither; I mean to have a ball to-morrow night, 84 And a rich banquet for ’em, where we ’ll dance Till morning rise, and blush to interrupt us.

Born. Have you no ladies i’ th’ next room, to advance[4345] A present mirth? What a dull house you govern! Farewell! a wife ’s no company.—Aretina, I ’ve summ’d up my estate, and find we may have 90 A month good yet.

Lady B. What mean you?

Born. And I’d rather Be lord one month of pleasures, to the height And rapture of our senses, than be years Consuming what we have in foolish temperance, Live in the dark, and no fame wait upon us! 95 I will live so, posterity shall stand At gaze when I am mentioned.

Lady B. A month good! And what shall be done then?

Born. I ’ll over sea, And trail a pike. With watching, marching, lying In trenches, with enduring cold and hunger, 100 And taking here and there a musket-shot, I can earn every week four shillings, madam; And if the bullets favour me to snatch Any superfluous limb, when I return, With good friends, I despair not to be enroll’d Poor knight of Windsor.[4346] For your course, madam, 106 No doubt you may do well; your friends are great; Or if your poverty and their pride cannot Agree, you need not trouble much invention To find a trade to live by; there are customers. 110 Farewell, be frolic, madam! If I live, I will feast all my senses, and not fall Less than a Phaeton from my throne of pleasure, Though my estate flame like the world about me. Exit.

Lady B. ’T is very pretty!— Enter DECOY. Madam Decoy!

Dec. What! melancholy, 115 After so sweet a night’s work? Have not I Show’d myself mistress of my art?

Lady B. A lady.

Dec. That title makes the credit of the act A story higher. Y’ have not seen him yet? I wonder what he ’ll say.

Lady B. He ’s here.

Enter KICKSHAW and FREDERICK.

Kick. Bear up, 120 My little myrmidon; does not Jack Littleworth Follow?

Fred. Follow? He fell into the Thames At landing.

Kick. The devil shall dive for him, Ere I endanger my silk stockings for him. Let the watermen alone, they have drags and engines.[4347] 125 When he has drunk his julep, I shall laugh To see him come in pickled the next tide.

Fred. He’ll never sink, he has such a cork brain.

Kick. Let him be hang’d or drown’d, all ’s one to me; Yet he deserves to die by water, cannot 130 Bear his wine credibly.

Fred. Is not this my aunt?

Kick. And another handsome lady; I must know her. [Goes up to DECOY.]

Fred. My blood is rampant too, I must court somebody; As good my aunt as any other body.

Lady B. Where have you been, cousin?

Fred. At the Bridge, 135 At the Bear’s foot, where our first health began To the fair Aretina, whose sweet company Was wished by all. We could not get a lay, A tumbler, a device, a bona roba,[4348] For any money; drawers were grown dull: 140 We wanted our true firks,[4349] and our vagaries.— When were you in drink, aunt?

Lady B. How?

Fred. Do not ladies Play the good fellows too? There ’s no true mirth Without ’em. I have now such tickling fancies! That doctor of the chair of wit has read 145 A precious lecture, how I should behave Myself to ladies—as now, for example. [Goes up to LADY BORNWELL.]

Lady B. Would you practise upon me?

Fred. I first salute you, You have a soft hand, madam; are you so All over?

Lady B. Nephew!

Fred. Nay, you should but smile. 150 And then again I kiss you; and thus draw Off your white glove, and start, to see your hand More excellently white. I grace my own Lip with this touch, and turning gently thus, Prepare you for my skill in palmistry, 155 Which, out of curiosity, no lady But easily applies[4350] to. The first line I look with most ambition to find out, Is Venus’ girdle, a fair semicircle, Enclosing both the mount of Sol and Saturn; 160 If that appear, she ’s for my turn; a lady Whom nature has prepared for the career; And, Cupid at my elbow, I put forward: You have this very line, aunt.

Lady B. The boy ’s frantic!

Fred. You have a couch or pallet; I can shut The chamber door. Enrich a stranger, when 165 Your nephew ’s coming into play!

Lady B. No more.

Fred. Are you so coy to your own flesh and blood?

Kick. Here, take your playfellow; I talk of sport, And she would have me marry her. 170

Fred. Here ’s Littleworth. Enter LITTLEWORTH, wet. Why, how now, tutor?

Little. I have been fishing.

Fred. And what ha’ you caught?

Little. My belly full of water.

Kick. Ha, ha! Where ’s thy rapier?

Little. My rapier is drown’d, And I am little better. I was up by th’ heels, 175 And out came a tun of water, beside wine.

Kick. ’T has made thee sober.

Little. Would you have me drunk With water?

Lady B. I hope your fire is quench’d by this time.

Fred. It is not now, as when your worship “walk’d By all the taverns, Jack, dry as a bone.” 180

Kick. You had store of fish under water, Jack.

Little. It has made a poor John of me.

Fred. I do not think but if we cast an angle Into his belly, we might find some pilchards.[4351]

Little. And boil’d, by this time.—Dear madam, a bed. 185

Kick. Carry but the water-spaniel to a grass-plot, Where he may roll himself; let him but shake His ears twice in the sun, and you may grind him Into a posset.

Fred. Come, thou shalt to my bed, Poor pickerel.

Dec. Alas, sweet gentleman! 190

Little. I have ill luck an I should smell by this time; I am but new ta’en, I am sure.—Sweet gentlewoman!

Dec. Your servant.

Little. Pray do not pluck off my skin; It is so wet, unless you have good eyes, You ’ll hardly know it from a shirt.

Dec. Fear nothing. 195 Exeunt [all but KICKSHAW and Lady BORNWELL.]

Lady B. [Aside.] He has sack enough, and I may find his humour.

Kick. And how is ’t with your Ladyship? You look Without a sunshine in your face.

Lady B. You are glorious In mind and habit.

Kicks. Ends of gold and silver!

Lady B. Your other clothes were not so rich. Who was 200 Your tailor, sir?

Kick. They were made for me long since; They have known but two bright days upon my back. I had a humour, madam, to lay things by; They will serve two days more: I think I ha’ gold enough To go to th’ mercer. I ’ll now allow myself 205 A suit a week, as this, with necessary Dependances, beaver, silk stockings, garters, And roses, in their due conformity; Boots are forbid a clean leg, but to ride in. My linen every morning comes in new, 210 The old goes to great bellies.

Lady B. You are charitable.

Kick. I may dine wi’ ye sometime, or at the court, To meet good company, not for the table. My clerk o’ th’ kitchen ’s here, a witty epicure, A spirit, that, to please me with what ’s rare, Can fly a hundred mile a day to market, 216 And make me lord of fish and fowl. I shall Forget there is a butcher; and to make My footman nimble, he shall feed on nothing But wings of wild fowl.

Lady B. These ways are costly. 220

Kick. Therefore I ’ll have it so; I ha’ sprung a mine.

Lady B. You make me wonder, sir, to see this change Of fortune: your revenue was not late So plentiful.

Kick. Hang dirty land, and lordships! I wo’ not change one lodging I ha’ got, 225 For the Chamber of London.

Lady B. Strange, of such a sudden, To rise to this estate! No fortunate hand At dice could lift you up so, for ’t is since Last night: yesterday, you were no such monarch.

Kick. There be more games than dice.

Lady B. It cannot be 230 A mistress, though your person is worth love; None possibly are rich enough to feed As you have cast the method of your riots. A princess, after all her jewels, must Be forc’d to sell her provinces.

Kick. Now you talk 235 Of jewels, what do you think of this?

Lady B. A rich one.

Kick. You ’ll honour me to wear ’t; this other toy I had from you; this chain I borrowed of you, A friend had it in keeping. [Gives her the jewel and chain.]—If your ladyship Want any sum, you know your friend, and Alexander. 240

Lady B. Dare you trust my security?

Kick. There ’s gold, I shall have more to-morrow.

Lady B. You astonish me; Who can supply these?

Kick. A dear friend I have. She promis’d we should meet again i’ th’ morning.

Lady B. Not that I wish to know 245 More of your happiness than I have already Heart to congratulate,—be pleas’d to lay My wonder.

Kick. ’T is a secret—

Lady B. Which I ’ll die Ere I ’ll betray.

Kick. You have always wish’d me well; But you shall swear not to reveal the party. 250

Lady B. I ’ll lose the benefit of my tongue.

Kick. Nor be Afraid at what I say. What think you first Of an old witch, a strange ill-favour’d hag, That, for my company last night, has wrought This cure upon my fortune? I do sweat 255 To think upon her name.

Lady B. How, sir! a witch?

Kick. I would not fright your ladyship too much At first, but witches are akin to spirits. The truth is—Nay, if you look pale already, I ha’ done.

Lady B. Sir, I beseech you.

Kick. If you have 260 But courage then to know the truth, I ’ll tell you In one word: my chief friend is—the devil!

Lady B. What devil? how I tremble!

Kick. Have a heart; ’T was a she-devil too, a most insatiate, Abominable devil, with a tail 265 Thus long.

Lady B. Goodness defend me! Did you see her?

Kick. No, ’t was i’ th’ dark; but she appear’d first to me I’ th’ likeness of a beldam, and was brought, I know not how, nor whither, by two goblins, More hooded than a hawk.

Lady B. But would you venture 270 Upon a devil!

Kick. Ay, for means.

Lady B. [Aside.] How black An impudence is this!—But are you sure It was the devil you enjoy’d?

Kick. Say nothing; I did the best to please her; but as sure As you live, ’t was a hell-cat.

Lady B. D’ ye not quake? 275

Kick. I found myself in the very room[4352] i’ th’ morning, Where two of her familiars had left me.

Enter Servant.

Serv. My lord is come to visit you.

Kick. No words, As you respect my safety. I ha’ told tales Out of the devil’s school; if it be known, 280 I lose a friend. ’T is now about the time I promis’d her to meet again; at my Return I ’ll tell you wonders. Not a word. Exit.

Lady B. ’T is a false glass; sure I am more deform’d: [Looks in her pocket mirror.] What have I done?—My soul is miserable. 285

Enter LORD ——.

Lord. I sent you a letter, madam.

Lady B. You exprest Your noble care of me, my lord.

Re-enter SIR THOMAS BORNWELL with CELESTINA.

Born. Your lordship Does me an honour.

Lord. Madam, I am glad To see you here; I meant to have kist your hand, Ere my return to court.

Cel. Sir Thomas has 290 Prevail’d to bring me, to his trouble, hither.

Lord. You do him grace.

Born. Why, what ’s the matter, madam? Your eyes are tuning Lachrimae.[4353]

Lady B. As you Do hope for Heaven, withdraw, and give me but The patience of ten minutes.

Born. Wonderful! 295 I will not hear you above that proportion. She talks of Heaven:—Come, where must we to counsel?

Lady B. You shall conclude me when you please. [Exit.]

Born. I follow.

Lord. [Aside.] What alteration is this? I, that so late Stood the temptation of her eye and voice, 300 Boasted a heart ’bove all licentious flame, At second view turn renegade, and think I was too superstitious, and full Of phlegm, not to reward her amorous courtship With manly freedom.

Cel. I obey you, sir. 305

Born. I ’ll wait upon your lordship presently. [Exit.]

Lord. She could not want a cunning to seem honest When I neglected her. I am resolv’d.— You still look pleasant, madam.

Cel. I have cause, 309 My lord, the rather for your presence, which Hath power to charm all trouble in my thoughts.

Lord. I must translate that compliment, and owe All that is cheerful in myself to these All-quick’ning smiles; and rather than such bright Eyes should repent their influence upon me, 315 I would release the aspects, and quit the bounty Of all the other stars. Did you not think me A strange and melancholy gentleman, To use you so unkindly?

Cel. Me, my lord?

Lord. I hope you made no loud complaint; I would not 320 Be tried by a jury of ladies.

Cel. For what, my lord?

Lord. I did not meet that noble entertainment You were late pleas’d to show me.

Cel. I observ’d No such defect in your lordship, but a brave And noble fortitude.

Lord. A noble folly; 325 I bring repentance for ’t. I know you have, Madam, a gentle faith, and wo’ not ruin What you have built to honour you.

Cel. What ’s that?

Lord. If you can love, I ’ll tell your ladyship.

Cel. I have a stubborn soul else.

Lord. You are all 330 Compos’d of harmony.

Cel. What love d’ ye mean?

Lord. That which doth perfect both. Madam, you have heard I can be constant, and if you consent To grace it so, there is a spacious dwelling Prepar’d within my heart for such a mistress. 335

Cel. Your mistress, my good lord?

Lord. Why, my good lady, Your sex doth hold it no dishonour To become mistress to a noble servant In the now court Platonic way. Consider Who ’t is that pleads to you; my birth and present 340 Value can be no stain to your embrace; But these are shadows when my love appears, Which shall, in his first miracle, return Me in my bloom of youth, and thee a virgin; When I, within some new Elysium, 345 Of purpose made and meant for us, shall be In every thing Adonis, but in his Contempt of love; and court thee from a Daphne Hid in the cold rind of a bashful tree, With such warm language and delight, till thou 350 Leap from that bay[4354] into the Queen of Love, And pay my conquest with composing garlands Of thy own myrtle for me.

Cel. What ’s all this?

Lord. Consent to be my mistress, Celestina, And we will have it spring-time all the year; 355 Upon whose invitations, when we walk, The winds shall play soft descant to our feet, And breathe rich odours to re-pure the air: Green bowers on every side shall tempt our stay, And violets stoop to have us tread upon ’em. 360 The red rose shall grow pale, being near thy cheek, And the white blush, o’ercome with such a forehead. Here laid, and measuring with ourselves some bank, A thousand birds shall from the woods repair, And place themselves so cunningly behind 365 The leaves of every tree, that while they pay Us tribute of their songs, them sha’t imagine The very trees bear music, and sweet voices Do grow in every arbour. Here can we Embrace and kiss, tell tales, and kiss again, 370 And none but Heaven our rival.

Cel. When we are Weary of these, what if we shift our paradise, And through a grove of tall and even pine, Descend into a valley, that shall shame All the delights of Tempe; upon whose 375 Green plush the Graces shall be call’d to dance To please us, and maintain their fairy revels, To the harmonious murmurs of a stream That gently falls upon a rock of pearl. 379 Here doth the nymph, forsaken Echo, dwell, To whom we ’ll tell the story of our love, Till at our surfeit and her want of joy, We break her heart with envy. Not far off, A grove shall call us to a wanton river, To see a dying swan give up the ghost, 385 The fishes shooting up their tears in bubbles, That they must lose the genius of their waves— And such love linsey woolsey, to no purpose.

Lord. You chide me handsomely; pray tell me how You like this language.

Cel. Good my lord, forbear. 390

Lord. You need not fly out of this circle, madam;— These widows are so full of circumstance!— I ’ll undertake, in this time I ha’ courted Your ladyship for the toy, to ha’ broken ten, Nay, twenty colts, virgins I mean, and taught ’em 395 The amble, or what pace I most affected.

Cel. You ’re not, my lord, again, the lord I thought you; And I must tell you now, you do forget Yourself and me.

Lord. You ’ll not be angry, madam?

Cel. Nor rude, (though gay men have a privilege,) 400 It shall appear:—there is a man, my lord, Within my acquaintance, rich in worldly fortunes, But cannot boast any descent of blood, Would buy a coat of arms.

Lord. He may, and legs Booted and spurr’d, to ride into the country. 405

Cel. But these will want antiquity, my lord, The seal of honour. What ’s a coat cut out But yesterday, to make a man a gentleman? Your family, as old as the first virtue That merited an escutcheon, doth owe[4355] 410 A glorious coat of arms; if you will sell now All that your name doth challenge in that ensign, I ’ll help you to a chapman that shall pay, And pour down wealth enough for ’t.

Lord. Sell my arms! I cannot, madam.

Cel. Give but your consent, 415 You know not how the state may be inclin’d To dispensation; we may prevail Upon the Herald’s office afterward.

Lord. I ’ll sooner give these arms to th’ hangman’s axe, My head, my heart, to twenty executions, 420 Than sell one atom from my name.

Cel. Change that, And answer him would buy my honour from me; Honour, that is not worn upon a flag Or pennon, that, without the owner’s dangers, An enemy may ravish, and bear from me; 425 But that which grows and withers with my soul, Beside the body’s stain: think, think, my lord, To what you would unworthily betray me, If you would not, for price of gold, or pleasure, (If that be more your idol,) lose the glory 430 And painted honour of your house.—I ha’ done.

Lord. Enough to rectify a satyr’s blood. Obscure my blushes here.

Enter SIR WILLIAM SCENTLOVE and HAIRCUT.

Hair. Or this, or fight with me; It shall be no exception that I wait Upon my lord; I am a gentleman, 435 You may be less and be a knight: the office I do my lord is honest, sir. How many Such you have been guilty of, Heaven knows.

Scent. ’T is no fear of your sword, but that I would not 439 Break the good laws establish’d against duels.

Hair. Off with your periwig, and stand bare. [SIR WILLIAM SCENTLOVE takes off his periwig.]

Lord. From this Minute I ’ll be a servant to thy goodness; A mistress in the wanton sense is common, I ’ll honour you with chaste thoughts, and call you so.

Cel. I ’ll study to be worth your fair opinion.

Lord. Scentlove, your head was us’d to a covering, 446 Beside a hat; when went the hair away?

Scent. I laid a wager, my lord, with Haircut, Who thinks I shall catch cold, that I ’ll stand bare This half hour.

Hair. Pardon my ambition, 450 Madam, I told you truth; I am a gentleman, And cannot fear that name is drown’d in my Relation to my lord.

Cel. I dare not think so.

Hair. From henceforth call my service duty, madam. That pig’s head, that betray’d me to your mirth, 455 Is doing penance for ’t.

Scent. Why may not I, My lord, begin a fashion of no hair?

Cel. Do you sweat, Sir William?

Scent. Not with store of nightcaps.

Re-enter SIR THOMAS and LADY BORNWELL.

Lady B. Heaven has dissolv’d the clouds that hung upon My eyes, and if you can with mercy meet 460 A penitent, I throw my own will off, And now in all things obey yours. My nephew Send back again to th’ college, and myself To what place you ’ll confine me.

Born. Dearer now Than ever to my bosom, thou sha’t please 465 Me best to live at thy own choice. I did But fright thee with a noise of my expenses; The sums are safe, and we have wealth enough, If yet we use it nobly. My lord—madam, Pray honour us to-night.

Lady B. I beg your presence, 470 And pardon.

Born. I know not how my Aretina May be dispos’d to-morrow for the country.

Cel. You must not go before you have done Me honour to accept an entertainment Where I have power; on those terms I ’m your guest. 475

Born. You grace us, madam.

Lady B. [Aside.] Already I feel a cure upon my soul, and promise My after life to virtue. Pardon, Heaven, My shame, yet hid from the world’s eye.

Re-enter DECOY.

Dec. Sweet madam!

Lady B. Not for the world be seen here! We are lost. 480 I ’ll visit you at home.—[Aside.] But not to practise What she expects: my counsel may recover her. [Exit DECOY.]

Re-enter KICKSHAW.

Kick. Where ’s madam?—Pray lend me a little money, My spirit has deceiv’d me; Proserpine Has broke her word.

Lady B. Do you expect to find 485 The devil true to you?

Kick. Not too loud.

Lady B. I ’ll voice it Louder, to all the world, your horrid sin, Unless you promise me religiously, To purge your foul blood by repentance, sir.

Kick. Then I ’m undone.

Lady B. Not while I have power 490 To encourage you to virtue. I ’ll endeavour To find you out some nobler way at court, To thrive in.

Kick. Do ’t and I ’ll forsake the devil, And bring my flesh to obedience. You shall steer me.— My lord, your servant.

Lord. You are brave again. 495

Kick. Madam, your pardon.

Born. Your offence requires Humility.

Kick. Low as my heart.—Sir Thomas, I ’ll sup with you, a part of satisfaction.

Born. Our pleasures cool. Music! and when our ladies Are tir’d with active motion, to give 500 Them rest, in some new rapture to advance Full mirth, our souls shall leap into a dance. Exeunt.

THE CARDINAL

BY JAMES SHIRLEY

PERSONS

KING OF NAVARRE. THE CARDINAL. COLUMBO, the Cardinal’s Nephew. [COUNT] D’ALVAREZ. HERNANDO, a Colonel. ALPHONSO, [a Captain.] Lords. [ANTONIO,] Secretary to the Duchess. Colonels. ANTONELLI, the Cardinal’s Servant. [Gentleman-Usher.] Surgeon. [JAQUES, PEDRO, and other Servants.] Guard. Attendants, etc.

DUCHESS ROSAURA. VALERIA, } CELINDA, } Ladies. PLACENTIA, a Lady that waits upon the Duchess.

SCENE.—Navarre.

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The Prologue

THE CARDINAL! ’Cause we express no scene, We do believe most of you, gentlemen, Are at this hour in France, and busy there, Though you vouchsafe to lend your bodies here; But keep your fancy active, till you know, 5 By th’ progress of our play, ’t is nothing so. A poet’s art is to lead on your thought Through subtle paths and workings of a plot; And where your expectation does not thrive, If things fall better, yet you may forgive. 10 I will say nothing positive; you may Think what you please; we call it but a Play: Whether the comic Muse, or ladies’ love, Romance, or direful tragedy it prove, The bill determines not; and would you be 15 Persuaded, I would have ’t a Comedy, For all the purple in the name and state Of him that owns it; but ’t is left to fate. Yet I will tell you, ere you see it play’d, What the author, and he blusht too, when he said, 20 Comparing with his own, (for ’t had been pride, He thought, to build his wit a pyramid Upon another’s wounded fame,) this play Might rival with his best, and dar’d to say— Troth, I am out: he said no more. You, then, 25 When ’t ’s done, may say your pleasures, gentlemen.

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Act I

[SCENE I.][4356]

Enter two Lords at one door; secretary [ANTONIO][4357] at the other.

1 Lord. Who is that?

2 Lord. The duchess’ secretary.

1 Lord. Signior!

Ant. Your lordship’s servant.

1 Lord. How does her grace, since she left off her mourning 5 For the young Duke Mendoza, whose timeless death At sea left her a virgin and a widow?

2 Lord. She ’s now inclining to a second bride.[4358]—— When is the day of mighty marriage To our great Cardinal’s nephew, Don Columbo?

Ant. When they agree; they will not steal to church, 11 I guess the ceremonies will be loud and public. Your lordships will excuse me. Exit.

1 Lord. When they agree! Alas! poor lady, she Dotes not upon Columbo, when she thinks 15 Of the young Count d’Alvarez, divorc’d from her By the king’s power.

2 Lord. And counsel of the Cardinal, To advance his nephew to the duchess’ bed; It is not well.

1 Lord. Take heed; the Cardinal holds Intelligence with every bird i’ th’ air. 20

2 Lord. Death on his purple pride! He governs all; And yet Columbo is a gallant gentleman.

1 Lord. The darling of the war, whom victory Hath often courted; a man of daring, And most exalted spirit. Pride in him 25 Dwells like an ornament, where so much honour Secures his praise.

2 Lord. This is no argument He should usurp, and wear Alvarez’ title To the fair duchess; men of coarser blood, Would not so tamely give this treasure up. 30

1 Lord. Although Columbo’s name is great in war, Whose glorious art and practice is above The greatness of Alvarez, yet he cannot Want soul, in whom alone survives the virtue Of many noble ancestors, being the last 35 Of his great family.

2 Lord. ’T is not safe, you ’ll say, To wrastle with the king.

1 Lord. More danger if the Cardinal he displeas’d, Who sits at helm of state. Count d’Alvarez Is wiser to obey the stream, than by 40 Insisting on his privilege to her love, Put both their fates upon a storm.

2 Lord. If wisdom, Not inborn fear, make him compose,[4359] I like it. How does the duchess bear herself?

1 Lord. She moves by the rapture[4360] of another wheel, 45 That must be obey’d; like some sad passenger, That looks upon the coast his wishes fly to, But is transported by an adverse wind, Sometimes a churlish pilot.

2 Lord. She has a sweet and noble nature.

1 Lord. That 50 Commends Alvarez; Hymen cannot tie A knot of two more equal hearts and blood.

Enter ALPHONSO.

2 Lord. Alphonso!

Alph. My good lord.

1 Lord. What great affair Hath brought you from the confines?

Alph. Such as will Be worth your counsels, when the king hath read 55 My letters from the governor: the Arragonians, Violating their confederate oath and league, Are now in arms: they have not yet marcht towards us; But ’t is not safe to expect,[4361] if we may timely Prevent invasion.

2 Lord. Dare they be so insolent? 60

1 Lord. This storm I did foresee.

2 Lord. What have they, but The sweetness of the king, to make a crime?

1 Lord. But how appears the Cardinal at this news?

Alph. Not pale, although He knows they have no cause to think him innocent, 65 As by whose counsel they were once surpris’d.

1 Lord. There is more Than all our present art can fathom in This story, and I fear I may conclude This flame has breath at home to cherish it. 70 There ’s treason in some hearts, whose faces are Smooth to the state.

Alph. My lord, I take my leave.

2 Lord. Your friends, good captain. Exeunt.

[SCENE II.][4362]

Enter DUCHESS, VALERIA, and CELINDA.

Val. Sweet madam, be less thoughtful; this obedience[4363] To passion will destroy the noblest frame Of beauty that this kingdom ever boasted.

Cel. This sadness might become your other habit, And ceremonies black, for him that died. 5 The times of sorrow are expir’d; and all The joys that wait upon the court, your birth, And a new Hymen, that is coming towards you, Invite a change.

Duch. Ladies, I thank you both; I pray excuse a little melancholy 10 That is behind; my year of mourning hath not So clear’d my account with sorrow, but there may Some dark thoughts stay, with sad reflections, Upon my heart, for him I lost. Even this New dress and smiling garment, meant to show 15 A peace concluded ’twixt my grief and me, Is but a sad remembrance. But I resolve To entertain more pleasing thoughts; and if You wish me heartily to smile, you must Not mention grief, not in advice to leave it. 20 Such counsels open but afresh the wounds Ye would close up, and keep alive the cause, Whose bleeding you would cure. Let ’s talk of something That may delight. You two are read in all The histories of our court: tell me, Valeria, 25 Who has thy vote for the most handsome man?— [Aside.] Thus I must counterfeit a peace, when all Within me is at mutiny.

Val. I have examin’d All that are candidates for the praise of ladies, But find—may I speak boldly to your grace? And will you not return it in your mirth, 31 To make me blush?

Duch. No, no; speak freely.

Val. I wo’ not rack your patience, madam; but Were I a princess, I should think the Count d’Alvarez Had sweetness to deserve me from the world. 35

Duch. [Aside.] Alvarez! she ’s a spy upon my heart.

Val. He ’s young and active, and compos’d most sweetly.

Duch. I have seen a face more tempting.

Val. It had then Too much of woman in ’t: his eyes speak movingly, Which may excuse his voice, and lead away 40 All female pride his captive; his hair, black, Which, naturally falling into curls—

Duch. Prithee, no more; thou art in love with him.— The man in your esteem, Celinda, now?

Cel. Alvarez is, I must confess, a gentleman 45 Of handsome composition; but with His mind, the greater excellence, I think Another may delight a lady more, If man be well considered, that’s Columbo, Now, madam, voted to be yours.

Dutch. [Aside.] My torment! 50

Val. [Aside.] She affects him not.

Cel. He has a person, and a bravery beyond All men, that I observe.

Val. He is a soldier, A rough-hewn man, and may show well at distance. His talk will fright a lady; War, and grim- 55 Fac’d Honour are his mistresses; he raves To hear a lute; Love meant him not his priest.— Again your pardon, madam. We may talk, But you have art to choose, and crown affection. [CELINDA and VALERIA walk aside.]

Duch. What is it to be born above these ladies, 60 And want their freedom! They are not constrain’d, Nor slav’d by their own greatness, or the king’s, But let their free hearts look abroad, and choose By their own eyes to love. I must repair My poor afflicted bosom, and assume 65 The privilege I was born with, which now prompts me To tell the king, he hath no power nor art To steer a lover’s soul.— Enter Secretary [ANTONIO]. What says Count d’Alvarez?

Ant. Madam, he ’ll attend you.

Duch. Wait you, as I directed. When he comes, 70 Acquaint me privately.

Ant. Madam, I have news; ’T is now arriv’d the court; we shall have wars.

Duch. [Aside.] I find an army here of killing thoughts.

Ant. The king has chosen Don Columbo general, Who is immediately to take his leave. 75

Duch. [Aside.] What flood is let into my heart!—How far Is he to go?

Ant. To Arragon.

Duch. That ’s well At first; he should not want a pilgrimage To the unknown world, if my thoughts might convey him.

Ant. ’T is not impossible he may go thither. 80

Duch. How?

Ant. To the unknown world; he goes to fight, That ’s in his way: such stories are in nature.

Duch. Conceal this news.

Ant. He wo’ not be long absent; The affair will make him swift To kiss your grace’s hand. [Exit.]

Duch. He cannot fly 85 With too much wing to take his leave.—I must Be admitted to your conference; you have Enlarg’d my spirits; they shall droop no more.

Cel. We are happy, if we may advance one thought To your grace’s pleasure. 90

Val. Your eye before was in eclipse; these smiles Become you, madam.

Duch. [Aside.] I have not skill to contain myself.

Enter PLACENTIA.

Pla. The Cardinal’s nephew, madam, Don Columbo.

Duch. Already! Attend him. Exit PLACENTIA.

Val. Shall we take our leave? 95

Duch. He shall not know, [Celinda,][4364] how you prais’d him.

[Cel.][4365] If he did, madam, I should have the confidence To tell him my free thoughts.

Enter COLUMBO.

Duch. My lord, while I ’m in study to requite The favour you ha’ done me, you increase 100 My debt to such a sum, still by a new honouring Your servant, I despair of my own freedom.

Colum. Madam, he kisseth your white hand, that must Not surfeit in this happiness—and, ladies, I take your smiles for my encouragement! 105 I have not long to practise these court tactics. [Kisses them.]

Cel. He has been taught to kiss.

Duch. There ’s something, sir, Upon your brow I did not read before.

Colum. Does the character please you, madam?

Duch. More, Because it speaks you cheerful.

Colum. ’T is for such 110 Access of honour, as must make Columbo Worth all your love; the king is pleas’d to think Me fit to lead his army.

Duch. How! an army?

Colum. We must not use the priest, till I bring home Another triumph that now stays for me, 115 To reap it in the purple field of glory.

Duch. But do you mean to leave me, and expose Yourself to the devouring war? No enemy Should divide us; the king is not so cruel.

Colum. The king is honourable; and this grace 120 More answers my ambition, than his gift Of thee, and all thy beauty, which I can Love, as becomes thy soldier, and fight To come again, a conqueror of thee. She weeps. Then I must chide this fondness.[4366] 125

Re-enter Secretary [ANTONIO].

Ant. Madam, the king, and my lord Cardinal. [Exit.]

Enter KING, CARDINAL, and Lords.

King. Madam, I come to call a servant from you, And strengthen his excuse; the public cause Will plead for your consent; at his return Your marriage shall receive triumphant ceremonies; 130 Till then you must dispense.

Car. She appears sad To part with him.—I like it fairly, nephew.

[Cel.][4367] Is not the general a gallant man? What lady would deny him a small courtesy?

[Val.] Thou hast converted me, and I begin To wish it were no sin. 136

[Cel.] Leave that to narrow consciences.

[Val.] You are pleasant.

[Cel.] But he would please one better. Do such men Lie with their pages?

[Val.] Wouldst thou make a shift?

[Cel.] He is going to a bloody business; 140 ’T is pity he should die without some heir. That lady were hard-hearted now, that would Not help posterity, for the mere good O’ th’ king and commonwealth.

[Val.] Thou art wild; we may be observ’d.

Duch. Your will must guide me; happiness and conquest 146 Be ever waiting on his sword!

Colum. Farewell. Exeunt KING, COLUMBO, CARDINAL and Lords.

Duch. Pray give leave to examine a few thoughts; Expect[4368] me in the garden.

Ladies. We attend. Exeunt Ladies. 150

Duch. This is above all expectation happy. Forgive me, Virtue, that I have dissembled, And witness with me, I have not a thought To tempt or to betray him, but secure The promise I first made, to love and honour. 155

Re-enter Secretary [ANTONIO].

Ant. The Count d’Alvarez, madam.

Duch. Admit him, And let none interrupt us. [Exit ANTONIO.]—How shall I Behave my looks? The guilt of my neglect, Which had no seal from hence, will call up blood To write upon my cheeks the shame and story 160 In some red letter.

Enter ALVAREZ.

Alv. Madam, I present One that was glad to obey your grace, and come To know what your commands are.

Duch. Where I once Did promise love, a love that had the power And office of a priest to chain my heart 165 To yours, it were injustice to command.

Alv. But I can look upon you, madam, as Becomes a servant; with as much humility, In tenderness of your honour and great fortune, Give up, when you call back your bounty, all that 170 Was mine, as I had pride to think them favours.

Duch. Hath love taught thee no more assurance in Our mutual vows, thou canst suspect it possible I should revoke a promise, made to heaven And thee, so soon? This must arise from some Distrust of thy own faith.

Alv. Your grace’s pardon; 176 To speak with freedom, I am not so old In cunning to betray, nor young in time, Not to see when and where I am at loss, And how to bear my fortune, and my wounds, 180 Which, if I look for health, must still bleed inward, A hard and desperate condition. I am not ignorant your birth and greatness Have plac’d you to grow up with the king’s grace And jealousy, which to remove, his power 185 Hath chosen a fit object for your beauty To shine upon, Columbo, his great favourite. I am a man on whom but late the king Has pleas’d to cast a beam, which was not meant To make me proud, but wisely to direct, 190 And light me to my safety. Oh, dear madam! I will not call more witness of my love (If you will let me still give it that name) Than this, that I dare make myself a loser, And to your will give all my blessings up. 195 Preserve your greatness, and forget a trifle, That shall, at best, when you have drawn me up, But hang about you like a cloud, and dim The glories you are born to.

Duch. Misery Of birth and state! That I could shift into 200 A meaner blood, or find some art to purge That part which makes my veins unequal! Yet Those nice distinctions have no place in us; There ’s but a shadow difference, a title: Thy stock partakes as much of noble sap 205 As that which feeds the root of kings; and he That writes a lord hath all the essence of Nobility.

Alv. ’T is not a name that makes Our separation; the king’s displeasure Hangs a portent to fright us, and the matter 210 That feeds this exhalation is the Cardinal’s Plot to advance his nephew; then Columbo, A man made up for some prodigious act, Is fit to be considered: in all three There is no character you fix upon 215 But has a form of ruin to us both.

Duch. Then you do look on these with fear?

Alv. With eyes That should think tears a duty, to lament Your least unkind fate; but my youth dares boldly Meet all the tyranny o’ th’ stars, whose black Malevolence but shoots my single tragedy. 221 You are above the value of many worlds Peopled with such as I am.

Duch. What if Columbo, Engag’d to war, in his hot thirst of honour, Find out the way to death?

Alv. ’T is possible. 225

Duch. Or say, (no matter by what art or motive,) He give his title up, and leave me to My own election?

Alv. If I then be happy To have a name within your thought, there can 229 Be nothing left to crown me with new blessing. But I dream thus of heaven, and wake to find My amorous soul a mockery. When the priest Shall tie you to another, and the joys Of marriage leave no thought at leisure to Look back upon Alvarez, that must wither 235 For loss of you; yet then I cannot lose So much of what I was once in your favour, But, in a sigh, pray still you may live happy. Exit.

Duch. My heart is in a mist; some good star smile Upon my resolution, and direct 240 Two lovers in their chaste embrace to meet! Columbo’s bed contains my winding sheet. Exit.

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