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Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9
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Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima
Enter Alberto, Prospero, Juliana and SailorsSail.Shall we bring your necessaries ashore my Lord?Alb. Do what you please, I am land-sick, worse by farThan ere I was at sea.Pros. Collect your self.Alber. O my most worthy Prospero, my best friend,The noble favor I receiv'd from theeIn freeing me from the Turks I now accomptWorse than my death; for I shall never liveTo make requitall; what do you attend for?Sail. To understand your pleasure.Alber. They do mock me;I do protest I have no kind of pleasureIn any thing i'th' world, but in thy friendship,I must ever except that.Pros. Pray leave him, leave him. —[Exeunt Sailors.Alber. The news I heard related since my landingOf the division of my Family,How is it possible for any manTo bear't with a set patience?Pros. You have suffer'dSince your imprisonment more waighty sorrows.Alber. I, then I was man of flesh and blood,Now I am made up of fire, to the full heightOf a deadly Calenture; O these vild womenThat are so ill preservers of mens honors,They cannot govern their own honesties.That I should thirty and odd winters feedMy expectation of a noble heir,And by a womans falshood find him nowA fiction, a mere dream of what he was;And yet I love him still.Pros. In my opinionThe sentence (on this tryall) from the DukeWas noble, to repair Cesario's lossWith the marriage of your wife, had you been dead.Alber. By your favor but it was not, I conceiveT'was disparagement to my name, to have my widdowMatch with a Faulkeiners son, and yet beli've'tI love the youth still, and much pitty him.I do remember at my going to Sea,Upon a quarrel, and a hurt receiv'dFrom young Mentivole, my rage so farOretopt my nobler temper, I gave chargeTo have his hand cut off, which since I heard,And to my comfort, brave Cesario,Worthyly prevented.Pros. And 'twas nobly done.Albert Yet the revenge, for this intent of mineHath bred much slaughter in our families,And yet my wife (which infinitely moans me)Intends to marry my sole heir ClarissaTo the head branch of the other faction.Pros. 'Tis the mean to work reconcilement.Alber. Between whom?Pros. Your self and the worthy Baptista.Alber. Never.Pros. O you have been of a noble and remarkable friendship,And by this match 'tis generally in FlorenceHop'd, 'twill fully be reconcil'd; to me'Twould be absolute content.Julia. And to my self, I have main interest in it.Alb. Noble Sir, you may command my heart to break for youBut never to bend that way; poor Cesario,When thou put'st on thy mournfull willow-garland,Thy enemy shall be suted (I do vow)In the same livery, my CesarioLoved as my foster child, though not my Son,Which in some countryes formerly were barbarous,Was a name held most affectionate; thou art lost,Unfortunate young man, not only slightedWhere thou received'st thy breeding, but since scorn'dI th' way of marriage, by the poor BiancaThe In-keepers daughter.Pros. I have heard of that too;But let not that afflict you: for this LadyMay happily deliver at more leasureA circumstance may draw a fair event,Better than you can hope for.For this present we must leave you,And shall visit you again within these two hours.-Enter CesarioAlbert. Ever to me most welcome, – O my Cesario.Cesar. I am none of yours Sir, so 'tis protested;And I humbly beg,Since 'tis not in your power to preserve meAny longer in a noble course of life,Give me a worthy death.Alber. The youth is mad.Cesar. Nay Sir, I will instruct you in a wayTo kill me honorably.Alber. That were most strange.Cesar. I am turning Pirate, You may be imployedBy the Duke to fetch me in; and in a Sea-fightGive me a noble grave.Alber. Questionless he's mad: I would give any DoctorA thousand crowns to free him from this sorrow.Cesar. Here's the Physitian. —Shewes a Poniard.Alber. Hold Sir, I did sayTo free you from the sorrow, not from life.Cesar. Why life and sorrow are unseparable.Alber. Be comforted Cesario, MentivoleShall not marry Clarissa.Cesar. No Sir, ere he shall, I'll kill him.Alb[e]r. But you forfeit your own life then.Cesar. That's worth nothing.Alber. Cesario, be thy self, be mine Cesario:Make not thy self uncapable of that portionI have full purpose to confer upon thee,By falling into madness: bear thy wrongsWith noble patience, the afflicted's friendWhich ever in all actions crowns the end.Ces. You well awak'd me; nay recover'd meBoth to sence and full life, O most noble sir,Though I have lost my fortune, and lost youFor a worthy Father: yet I will not loseMy former virtue, my integrityShall not yet forsake me; but as the wild Ivy,Spreads and thrives better in some pittious ruinOf tower, or defac'd Temple, than it doesPlanted by a new building; so shall IMake my adversity my instrumentTo winde me up into a full content.Alber. 'Tis worthily resolv'd; our first adventureIs to stop the marriage; for thy other losses,Practis'd by a womans malice, but account themLike conjurers winds rais'd to a fearfull blast,And do some mischeif, but do never last.[Exeunt.Enter Forobosco and ClownClow. Now sir, will you not acknowledge that I have mightily advanc'd your practice?Forobos. 'Tis confest, and I will make thee a great man for't.Clow. I take a course to do that my self, for I drink sack in abundance.Foro. O my rare rascall! We must remove. Clow. Whither?Foro. Any whither: Europe is too little to be coz'ned by us, I am ambitious to go to the East-Indies, thou and I to ride on our brace of Elephants.Clow. And for my part I long to be in England agen; you will never get so much as in England, we have shifted many countryes, and many names: but trance the world over you shall never purse up so much gold as when you were in England, and call'd your self Doctor Lambe-stones.Foro. 'Twas an atractive name I confess, women were then my only admirers.Clow. And all their visits was either to further their lust, or revenge injuries.Foro. You should have forty in a morning beleaguer my closet, and strive who should be cozen'd first, amongst four-score love-sick waiting women that has come to me in a morning to learn what fortune should betide them in their first marriage, I have found above 94 to have lost their maiden-heads.Clow. By their own confession, but I was fain to be your male midwife, and work it out of them by circumstance.Foro. Thou wast, and yet for all this frequent resort of women and thy hand[l]ing of their urinals and their cases, thou art not given to lechery, what should be the reason of it? thou hast wholsome flesh enough about thee; me thinks the divell should tempt thee to't.Clow. What need he do that, when he makes me his instrument to tempt others.Foro. Thou canst not chuse but utter thy rare good parts; thou wast an excellent baud I acknowledge.Clow. Well, and what I have done that way, I will spare to speak of all you and I have done sir, and though we should —Foro. We will for England, that's for certain.Clow. We shall never want there.Foro. Want? their Court of Wards shall want money first: for I profess my self Lord Paramount over fools a[n]d madfolkes.Clow. Do but store your self with lyes enough against you come thither. Foro. Why that's all the familiarity I ever had with the Divell, my guift of lying, they say he's the Father of lyes; and though I cannot conjure, yet I profess my self to be one of his poor gossips. I will now reveale to thee a rare peece of service.Clow. What is it my most worshipful Doctor Lamb-stones?Foro. There is a Captain come lately from Sea,They call Prosper, I saw him this morningThrough a chink of wainscote that divides my lodging,And the Host of the house, withdraw my Host, and Hostess, the fair Biancha, and an antient gentlewoman into their bedchamber; I could not overhear their conference, but I saw such a mass of gold & Jewels, & when he had done he lock't it up into a casket; great joy there was amongst them, & forth they are gone into the city, and my Host told me at his going forth he thought he should not return till after supper: now Sir, in their absence will we fall to our picklocks, enter the chamber, seize the Jewels, make an escape from Florence, and we are made for ever.Clow. But if they should go to a true conjurer, and fetch us back in a whirle-wind?Foro. Do not believe there is any such fetch in Astrology, and this may be a means to make us live honest hereafter.Clow. 'Tis but an ill road to't that lyes through the high way of theeving.Foro. For indeed I am weary of this trade of fortune-telling; and mean to give all over, when I come into England, for it is a very ticklish quality.Clow. And i'th' end will hang by a twine thred.Foro. Besides the Island has too many of the profession, they hinder on[e] anothers market.Clow. No, no, the pillory hinders their market.Foro. You know there the jugling captain.Clow. I there's a sure card.Foro. Only the fore-man of their jury is dead, but he dyed like a Roman.Clow. Else 'tis thought he had made work for the hangman.Foro. And the very Ball, of your false prophets, he's quasht too. Clow. He did measure the stars with a false yard, and may now travail to Rome, with a morter on's head to see if he can recover his money that way.Foro. Come, come, lets fish for this casket, and to Sea presently.Clow. We shall never reach London, I fear;My mind runs so much of hanging, landing at Wapping.[Exeunt.Enter MarianaThis well may be a day of joy long wish'd forTo my Clarissa, she is innocent.Nor can her youth but with an open bosomeMeet Hymens pleasing bounties, but to meThat am inviron'd with black guilt and horrorIt does appear a funeral though promising muchIn the conception were hard to mannageBut sad in [the] event, it was not hateBut fond indulgence in me to preserveCesario's threatn'd life in open courtThen forc'd me to disclaime him, choosing ratherTo rob him of his birthright, and honorThan suffer him to run the hazard ofInrag'd Baptista's fury, while he lives;I know I have a Son, and the Dukes sentenceA while deluded, and this tempest over,When he assures himself despair hath seiz'd him.[Knock within.Enter BaptistaI can relieve and raise him – speak, who is itThat presses on my privacies? Sir your pardon.You cannot come unwelcome, though it wereTo read my secret thoughts.Bap. Lady to youMine shall be ever open; Lady said I,That name keeps too much distance, sister ratherI should have stil'd you, and I now may claime it,Since our divided families are made oneBy this blessed marriage; to whose honor comesThe Duke in person, waited on by allThe braveries of his Court, to witness it,And then to be our ghests, is the bride readyTo meet and entertain him?Maria. She attends the comming of your Son.Bap. Pray you bring her forth.The Duke's at hand – Musick, in her loud voyce,Speaks his arrivall.Maria. She's prepar'd to meet it.[ —Exit. Enter Mariana, Clarissa, led by two Maids: at the other door, Baptista meets with Mentivole, led by two Cour[t]iers, the Duke, Bishop; divers Attendants: (A Song) whilst they saluteDuke. It were impertinent to wish you joy,Since all joyes dwell about you, Hymens torchWas never lighted with a luckier Omen.Nor burnt with so much splendor, to deferWith fruitless compliment, the means to makeYour certain pleasures lawful to the world;Since in the union of your hearts they areConfirm'd already: would but argue usA boaster of our favours; to the Temple,And there the sacred knot once ti'd, all triumphsOur Dukedom can afford, shall grace your Nuptials. Enter Alberto and CesarioBap. On there.Ment. I hope it is not in the powerOf any to cross us now.Alber. But in the breathOf a wrong'd Father I forbid the Banes.Cesar. What, do you stand at gaze?Bap. Risen from the dead!Maria. Although the Sea had vomited up the FigureIn which thy better part liv'd long imprison'd,True love despising fear, runs thus to meet it.Claris. In duty I kneel to it.Alber. Hence vile wretches,To you I am a substance incorporeal,And not to be prophan'd, with your vile touch?That could so soon forget me, but such thingsAre neither worth my Anger, nor reproof.To you great Sir, I turn my self and theseImmediate Ministers of your Government,And if in my rude language I transgress;Ascribe it to the cold remembrance ofMy services, and not my rugged temper.Duke. Speak freely, be thy language ne'er so bitter,To see thee safe Alberto, signes thy pardon.Alber. My pardon? I can need none, if it be notReceiv'd for an offence. I tamely bearWrongs, which a slave-born Muscovite would check at.Why if for Treason I had been deliver'dUp to the Hangmans Axe, and this dead trunkUnworthy of a Christian Sepulchre;Expos'd a prey to feed the ravenous Vulture,The memory of the much I oft did for you,Had you but any touch of gratitude,Or thought of my deservings, would have stopp'd youFrom these unjust proceedings.Duke. Hear the motives that did induce us.Alber. I have heard them all,Your Highness sentence, the whole Court abus'd,By the perjuries and practice of this woman.(Wepest thou Crocodile) my hopeful son,Whom I dare swear mine own, degraded ofThe honors that descend to him from me:And from that, in his love scorn'd by a creatureWhose base birth, though made eminent by her beauty,Might well have mark'd her out Cesario's servant,All this I could have pardon'd and forgot;But that my daughter with my whole EstateSo hardly purchas'd, is assign'd a Dower;To one whose Father, and whose FamilyI so detest; that I would lose my essenceAnd be transformed to a BasiliskeTo look them dead, to me's an injuryAdmits no satisfaction.Bap. There's none offer'd.Alber. Nor would not be accepted,Though upon thy knees 'twere tender'd.Maria. Now the storm grows high.Bap. But that I thought thee dead, and in thy deathThe brinie Ocean had entomb'd thy name;I would have sought a Wife in a BordelloFor my Mentivole, and gladly hugg'dHer spurious issue as my lawful Nephews,Before his blood should e'er have mix'd with thine;So much I scorn it.Alber. I'll not bandy words, but thus dissolve the contract.Bap. There I meet thee, and seize on what's mine own.Alber. For all my service,Great Sir, grant me the combat with this wretch,That I may scourge his insolence.Bap. I kneel for it.Cesar. And to approve my self Alberto's Son,I'll be his second upon any odds,'Gainst him that dare most of Baptista's race.Menti. Already upon honourable terms,In me thou hast met thy better, for her sakeI'll add no more.Alber. Sir, let our swords decide it.Maria. Oh stay Sir, and as you would hold the TitleOf a just Prince, e'r you grant licence toThese mad-mens fury, lend your private earTo the most distress'd of Women.Duke. Speak, 'tis granted.[He takes Mariana aside.Clar. In the mean time, let not Clarissa beA patient looker on, though as yet doubtful,To whom to bend her knee first, yet to allI stoop thus low in duty, and would washThe dust of fury with my Virgin tears,From his bless'd feet, and make them beautifulThat would move to conditions of peace,Though with a snail-like pace, they all are wing'dTo bear you to destruction: reverend Sirs,Think on your antient friendship cementedWith so much bloud, but shed in noble action,Divided now in passion for a brawl;The Makers blush to own, much lov'd Cesario.Brother, or friend, (each Title may prevail,)Remember with what tenderness from our childhoodWe lov'd together, you preferring meBefore your self, and I so fond of youThat it begot suspition in ill mindsThat our affection was incestuous.Think of that happy time, in which I knowThat with your dearest bloud you had preventedThis shower of tears from me; Mentivole,My Husband, registred in that bright star-chamber,Though now on earth made strangers, be the exampleAnd offer in one hand the peaceful OliveOf concord, or if that can be deniedBy powerful intercession in the otherCarry the Hermian rod, and force attonement,Now we will not be all marble. Death's the worst thenAnd he shall be my Bridegroom.[Offers to kill her self.Ment. Hold Clarissa, his loving violence needs mustOffer in spite of honor. —[He snatches away her knife, and sets it to his own breast, she staies his hand.Duke. Was it to that end then on your Religion?Mar. And my hope in Heaven, Sir.Duke. We then will leave intreaties, and make useOf our authority, must I cry ai-meTo this unheard of insolence? in my presenceTo draw your swords, and as all reverenceThat's due to Majesty were forfeited,Cherish this wildeness! sheath them instantly,And shew an alteration in your looks, or by my power.Alber. Cut off my head.Bap. And mine, rather than hear of peace with this bad man.I'll not alone, give up my throat, but sufferYour rage to reach my family. Enter Prospero, Juliana, BianchaAlb. And my name to be no more remembred.Duke. What are these?Ces. Biancha, 'tis Biancha, still Biancha: but strangelyalter'd.Bapt. If that thirteen yearsOf absence could raze from my memoryThe figure of my friend, I might forget thee;But if thy Image be graven on my heart,Thou art my Prospero.Pros. Thou my Baptista?Duke. A suddain change!Bap. I dare not ask, dear friendIf Juliana live! for that's a blessingI am unworthy of, but yet denie notTo let me know the place she hath made happyBy having there her Sepulchre.Pros. If your Highness please to vouchsafe a patientEar, we shall make a true relation of a storyThat shall call on your wonder.Duke. Speak, we hear you.Pros. Baptista's fortune in the Genoua Court,His banishment, with his fair Wife's restraintYou are acquainted with; what since hath follow'dI faithfully will deliver. E'r eight MoonsAfter Baptista's absence were compleat,Fair Juliana found the pleasures, thatThey had injoy'd together, were not barren,And blushing at the burthen of her womb,No father near to own it, it drew onA violent sickness, which call'd down compassionFrom the angry Duke, then careful of her health.Physitians were enquir'd of, and their judgmentPrescrib'd the Baths of Luca as a meansFor her recovery; to my charge it pleas'd herTo be committed; but as on the wayWe journey'd, those throws only known to WomenCame thick upon her, in a private Village.Bap. She died?Pros. Have patience, she brought to the worldA hopeful Daughter; for her bodies sicknessIt soon decay'd, but the grief of her mindHourly increas'd, and life grew tedious to her,And desperate e'er to see you; she injoyn'd meTo place her in a Greekish Monastery,And to my care gave up her pretty Daughter.Bapt. What Monastery? as a Pilgrim bare-foot,I'll search it out.Pros. Pray you interrupt me not,Now to my fortunes; the girl well dispos'd ofWith a faithful friend of mine, my cruel fateMade me a prisoner to the Turkish Gallies,Where for 12 years, these hands tugg'd at the Oar,But fortune tyr'd at length with my afflictions,Some Ships of Maltha met the Ottoman Fleet,Charg'd them, and boarded them, and gave me freedom.With my deliverers I serv'd, and gotSuch reputation with the great MasterThat he gave me command over a tallAnd lusty ship, where my first happy serviceWas to redeem Alberto rumour'd dead,But was like me surpriz'd by Cortugogly.Alber. I would I had died there.Pros. And from him learningBaptista liv'd, and their dissolv'd friendship,I hois'd up sails for Greece, found JulianaA votary at her Beads; having made knownBoth that you liv'd, and where you were: she borrow'dSo much from her devotion, as to wish meTo bring her to you; if the object please you,With joy receive her.Bapt. Rage and fury leave me.[Throws away his sword.I am so full of happiness, there's no room leftTo entertain you, oh my long lost Jewel,Light of mine eyes, my souls strength.Julia. My best Lord, having embrac'd you thus,Death cannot fright me.Bapt. Live long to do so, though I should fix here.Pardon me Prospero, though I enquire my daughters fortune.Pros. That your happinessMay be at all parts perfect, here she is!Ces. Biancha, daughter to a Princess.Pros. True with my faithful Host I left her,And with him till now she hath resided,Ignorant both of her birth and greatness.Bap. Oh my blest one. Joy upon joy o'erwhelms me.Duke. Above wonder.Alb. I do begin to melt too, this strange storyWorks much upon me.Duke. Since it hath pleas'd heavenTo grace us with this miracle, I that amHeavens instrument here, determine thus; AlbertoBe not unthankful for the blessings shown you,Nor you Baptista; discord was yet neverA welcome sacrifice; therefore rage laid by,Embrace as friends, and let pass'd differenceBe as a dream forgotten.Bap. 'Tis to me.Alber. And me, and thus confirm it.Duke. And to tye itIn bonds not to be broken, with the marriageOf young Mentivole, and fair Clarissa,So you consent great Lady, your BianchaShall call Cæsario Husband.Julia. 'Tis a motion I gladly yield to.Cesar. One in which you make a sad man happy.[Offers to kneel.Bian. Kneel not, all forgiven.Duke. With the Duke your Uncle I will make attonement, and will have no denial. Enter Host, Forobosco, Clown and OfficersMar. Let this day be still held sacred.Host. Now if you can conjure, let the Devil unbind you.Foro. We are both undone.Clow. Already we feel it.Host. Justice Sir.Duke. What are they?Pros. I can resolve you, slaves freed from the GalliesBy the Viceroy of Sicilia.Duke. What's their offence?Host. The robbing me of all my Plate and Jewels, I mean the attempting of it. Clow. Please your Grace I will now discover this Varlet in earnest, this honest pestilent rogue, profest the Art of Conjuring, but all the skill that ever he had in the black Art, was in making a Seacole fire; only with wearing strange shapes, he begot admiration amongst Fools and Women.Foro. Wilt thou peach thou varlet?Duke. Why does he goggle with his eyes, and stalke so?Clow. This is one of his Magical raptures.Foro. I do vilifie your censure, you demand if I am guilty, whir says my cloak by a trick of Legerdemain, now I am not guilty, I am guarded with innocence, pure Silver Lace I assure you.Clow. Thus have I read to you your virtues, which notwithstanding I would not have you proud of.Foro. Out thou concealment of Tallow, and counterfeit Mummia.Duke. To the Gallies with them both.Clow. The only Sea-physick for a knave, is to be basted in a Gally, with the oil of a Bulls Peesel.Foro. And will not you make a sour face at the same sauce, sirrah? I hope to find thee so lean in one fortnight, thou mayst be drawn by the ears through the hoop of [a] firkin.Duke. Divide them, and away with them to th' Gallies.Clow. This will take down your pride, Jugler.Duke. This day that hath given birth to blessings beyond hope, admits no criminal sentence: to the Temple, and there with humbleness, praise heavens bounties;For blessings ne'er descend from thence, but whenA sacrifice in thanks ascends from men.[Exeunt omnes.
