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Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9
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Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima
Enter Urania and her WomanUran.What hast thou found him?Wo. Madam, he is coming in.Uran. Gods bless my brother, wheresoe'er he is:And I beseech you keep me fro the bedOf any naughty Tyrant, whom my MotherWould ha me have to wrong him. Enter IsmenusIsme. What would her new Grace have with me?Ura. Leave us a while. My Lord Ismenus,[Exit[Wom.]I pray for the love of Heaven and God,That you would tell me one thing, which I knowYou can do weell.Isme. Where's her fain Grace?Ura. You know me well inough, but that you mock, I am she my sen.Isme. God bless him that shall be thy husband, if thou wear'st [breeches] thus soon, thou'lt be as impudent as thy Mother.Ura. But will you tell me this one thing?Ism. What is't? if it be no great matter whether I do or no, perhaps I will.Ura. Yes faith, 'tis matter.Ism. And what is't?Ura. I pray you let me know whaire the Prince my Brother is.Ism. I'faith you shan be hang'd first, is your Mother so foolish to think your good Grace can sift it out of me?Ura. If you have any mercy left i' you to a poor wench, tell me.Ism. Why wouldst [not thou] have thy brains beat out for this, to follow thy Mothers steps so young?Ura. But believe me, she knows none of this.Ism. Believe you? why do you think I never had wits? or that I am run out of them? how should it belong to you to know, if I could tell?Ura. Why I will tell you, and if I speak falseLet the devil ha me: yonder's a bad man,Come from a Tyrant to my Mother, and what nameThey ha' for him, good faith I cannot tell.Isme. An Ambassador.Ura. That's it: but he would carry me away,And have me marry his Master; and I'll dayE'r I will ha' him.Ism. But what's this to knowing where the Prince is?Ura. Yes: for you know all my Mother does:Agen the Prince is but to ma me great.Ism. Pray, I know that too well, what ten?Ura. Why I [w]ould goe to the good Marquis myBrother, and put my self into his hands, that soHe may preserve himself.Ism. Oh that thou hadst no seed of thy Mother in thee, and couldst mean this now. Ura. Why feth I do, wou'd I might ne'er stir more if I do not.Ism. I shall prove a ridiculous fool, I'll be damn'd else: hang me if I do not half believe thee.Ura. By my troth you may.Ism. By my troth I doe: I know I'm an Ass for't, But I cannot help it.Ura. And won you tell me then?Ism. Yes faith will I, or any thing else i'th' world: for I think thou art as good a creature as ever was born.Ura. But ail goe i' this ladst [reparrell]: But you mun help me to Silver.Ism. Help thee? why the pox take him that will not help thee to any thing i'th' world, I'll help thee to Money, and I'll do't presently too, and yet soul, If you should play the scurvy Harlotry little pocky baggage now and cosin me, what then?Ura. Why, an I do, wou'd I might ne'r see day agen.Ism. Nay, by this light, I do not think thou wilt: I'll presently provide thee Money and a Letter.[Exit Ism.Ura. I, but I'll ne'er deliver it.When I have found my Brother, I will begTo serve him; but he shall never know who I am:For he must hate me then for my bad mother:I'll say I am a Countrey Lad that want a service,And have straid on him by chance, lest he discover me;I know I must not live long, but that taimeI ha' to spend, shall be in serving him.And though my Mother seek to take his life away,In ai day my brother shall be taughtThat I was ever good, though she were naught.[Exit. Enter Bacha and Timantus: Bacha reading a LetterBac. Run away, the Devil be her guide.Tim. Faith she's gone: there's a Letter, I found it in her pocket, would I were with her, she's a handsome Lady, a plague upon my bashfulness, I had bobb'd her long ago else.Bach. What a base whore is this, that after allMy ways for her advancement, should so poorlyMake virtue her undoer, and choose this time,The King being deadly sick, and I intendingA present marriage with some forreign Prince,To strengthen and secure my self. She writes hereLike a wise Gentlewoman, She will not stay:And the example of her dear brother, makes herFear her self, to whom she means to flie.Tim. Why, who can help it?Bac. Now Poverty and Lechery, which is thy end, rot thee, where e'er thou goest with all thy goodness.Timan. Berlady they'll bruze her: and she were of brass. I am sure they'll break stone Walls: I have had experience of them both, and they have made me desperate: but there's a messenger, Madam, come from the Prince with a Letter to Ismenus, who by him returns an answer.Bac. This comes as pat as wishes: thou shalt presently away Timantus.Tim. Whither Madam?Ba. To the Prince, and take the Messenger for guide.Tim. What shall I do there? I have done too much mischief to be believ'd again; or indeed, to scape with my head on my back, if I be once known.Bac. Thou art a weak shallow fool: get thee a disguise, and withal, when thou com'st before him, have a Letter fain'd to deliver him: and then, as thou hast ever hope of goodness by me, or after me, strike one home stroke that shall not need another: dar'st thou speak, dar'st thou? if thou fall'st off, go be a Rogue again, and lie and pander to procure thy meat: dar'st thou speak to me?Tim. Sure I shall never walk when I am dead: I have no spirit, Madam, I'll be drunk but I'll do it, that's all my refuge.[Exit.Bac. Away, no more, then I'll raise an Army whilst the King yet lives, if all the means and power I have can do it, I cannot tell. Enter Ismenus and three LordsIsm. Are you inventing still? we'll ease your studies.Bac. Why how now saucy Lords?Ism. Nay, I'll shake ye; yes devil, I will shake ye.Bac. Do not you know me Lords? Nis. Yes deadly sin we know ye, would we did not.Ism. Doe you hear whore, a plague a God upon thee, the Duke is dead.Bach. Dead!Ism. I, wild-fire and brimstone take thee: good man he is dead, and past those miseries which thou, salt infection-like; like a disease flungst upon his head. Dost thou hear, and 'twere not more respect [to] Womanhood in general than thee, because I had a Mother, who I will not say she was good, she liv'd so near thy time, I would have thee in vengeance of this man, whose peace is made in heaven by this time, tied to a post; and dried i' th' sun, and after carried about, and shewn at Fairs for money, with a long story of the devil thy father, that taught thee to be whorish, envious, bloudy.Bac. Ha, ha, ha.Ism. You fleering harlot, I'll have a horse to leap thee, and thy base issue shall carry Sumpters. Come Lords, bring her along, we'll to the Prince all, where her hell-hood shall wait his censure; and if he spare the[e] she-Goat, may he lie with thee again: and beside, maist thou lay upon him some nasty foul disease, that hate still follows, and his end a dry ditch. Lead you corrupted whore, or I'll draw a goad shall make you skip: away to the Prince.Bac. [Ha] ha, ha, I hope yet I shall come too late to find him.Cornets. Cupid from above. Enter Leucippus, Urania: Leucippus with a bloody HandkerchiefLeu. Alas poor boy, why dost thou follow me?What canst thou hope for? I am poor as thou art.Ura. In good feth I shall be weel and rich enoughIf you will love me, and not put me from you.Leu. Why dost thou choose out me Boy to undo thee?Alas, for pitty take another Master,That may be able to deserve thy loveIn breeding thee hereafter: me thou knowest not,More than my misery: and therefore canst notLook for rewards at my hands: would I were ableMy pretty knave, to doe thee any kindness: trulyGood Boy, I would upon my faith, thy harmlessInnocence moves me at heart: wilt thou goeSave thy self; why dost thou weep?Alas, I do not chide thee.Ura. I cannot tell if I go from you; Sir, I shall ne'er dawn day more: Pray if you can, I will be true to you: Let me wait on you: if I were a man, I would fight for you: Sure you have some ill-willers, I would slay [u]m.Leu. Such harmless souls are ever Prophets: well, I take thy wish, thou shalt be with me still: But prethee eat, [then] my good boy: Thou wilt die my child if thou fast one day more. This four daies thou hast tasted nothing: Goe into the Cave and eat: thou shalt find something for thee, to bring thy bloud again, and thy fair colour.Ura. I cannot eat, God thank you. But I'll eat to morrow.Leu. Thou't be dead by that time.Ura. I should be well then, for you will not love me.Leu. Indeed I will. This is the prettiest passion that e'er I felt yet: why dost thou look so earnestly upon me?Ura. You have fair eyes Master.Leu. Sure the boy dotes: why dost thou sigh my child?Ura. To think that such a fine man should live, and no gay Lady love him.Leu. Thou wilt love me?Ura. Yes sure till I die, and when I am in heaven, I'll e'en wish for you.Leu. And I'll come to thee boy. This is a Love I never yet heard tell of: come, thou art sleepy child; goe in, and I'll sit with thee: heaven what portends this?Ura. You are sad, but I am not sleepy, would I could do ought to make you merry: shall I sing?Leu. If thou wilt good Boy. Alas my boy, that thou shouldst comfort me, and art far worse than I! Enter Timantus with a Letter disguisedUra. Law Master, there's one, look to your [sen.]Leu. What art thou that in this dismal place,Which nothing could find out but misery,Thus boldly stepst? Comfort was never here,Here is no food, nor beds, nor any houseBuilt by a better Architect than beasts;And e'r you get dwelling from one of them,You must fight for it: if you conquer him,He is your meat: if not, you must be his.Tim. I come to you (for if I not mistake, you are thePrince) from that most Noble Lord Ismenus with a Letter.Ura. Alas, I fear I shall be discover'd now.Leu. Now I feel my self the poorest of all mortal things.Where is he that receives such courtesiesBut he has means to shew his gratefulnessSome way or other? I have none at all:I know not how to speak so much as wellOf thee, but to these trees.[Leucippus opening the Letter, the whilst Timantus runs at him, and Urania steps before.Tim. His Letters speak him, Sir —Ura. Gods keep me but from knowing him till I die: aye me, sure I cannot live a day, Oh thou foul Traitor: How do you Master?Leu. How dost thou my child? alas, look on [t]his, it may make thee repentant, to behold those innocent drops that thou hast drawn from thence.Ura. 'Tis nothing Sir, and you be well.Tim. Oh pardon me, know you me now, Sir?Leu. How couldst thou find me out?Tima. We intercepted a Letter from Ismenus, and the bearer directed me.Leu. Stand up Timantus boldly,The world conceives that thou art guiltyOf divers treasons to the State and me:But oh far be it from the innocenceOf a just man, to give a Traitor deathWithout a tryal: here the Countrey is notTo purge thee or condemn thee; thereforeA nobler trial than thou dost deserve,Rather than none at all, here I accuse theeBefore the face of Heaven, to be a TraitorBoth to the Duke my Father and to me, and theWhole Land: speak, is it so or no?Tima. 'Tis true Sir, pardon me.Leu. Take heed Timantus how thou dost cast away thy self, I must proceed to execution hastily if thou confess it: speak once againe, is it so or no?Tima. I am not guilty, Sir.[Fight here: the Prince gets his sword, and gives it him.Leu. Gods and thy sword acquit thee, here it is.Tima. I will not use any violence against your Highness.Leu. At thy peril then, for this must be thy trial: and from henceforth look to thy self.[Timantus draws his sword, and runs at him when he turns aside.Tim. I do beseech you, Sir, let me not fight.Leu. Up, up again Timantus,There is no way but this, believe me.Now if – Fie, fie Timantus, is there noUsage can recover thee from baseness? wert thouLonger to converse with men, I would have chidThee for this: be all thy faults forgiven.Tim. Oh spare me Sir, I am not fit for death.Leu. I think th[o]u art not, yet trust me, fitter than for life: Yet tell me e'r thy breath be gone, know'st of any other plots against me?Tim. Of none.Leu. What course wouldst thou have taken, when thou hadst kill'd me?Tim. I would have ta'en your Page, and married her.Leu. What Page?Tim. Your boy there.[Dies.[Urania sounds.Leu. Is he fall'n mad in death, what does he mean?Some good god help me at the worst: how dost thou?Let not thy misery vex me, thou shalt haveWhat thy poor heart can wish: I am a Prince,And I will keep thee in the gayest cloaths,And the finest things, that ever pretty boy had given him.Ura. I know you well enough,Feth I am dying, and now you know all too.Leu. But stir up thy self; look what a Jewel here is,See how it glisters: what a pretty shewWill this make in thy little ear? ha, speak,Eat but a bit, and take it.Ura. Do you not know me?Leu. I prethee mind thy health: why that's well said my good boy, smile still.Ura. I shall smile till death an I see you, I am Urania, your Sister-in-law.Leu. How?Ura. I am Urania.Leu. Dulness did seize me, now I know thee well;Alas, why cam'st thou hither?Ura. Feth for love, I would not let you know till I was dying; for you could not love me, my Mother was so naught.Leu. I will love thee, or any thing: what? wiltThou leave me as soon as I know thee?Speak one word to me: alas she's past it,She will ne'er speak more.What noise is that? it is no matter who Enter Ismenus with the LordsComes on me now. What worse than mad are youThat seek out sorrows? if you love delightsBegone from hence.Isme. Sir, for you we come, as Soldiers to revenge the wrongs you have suffer'd under this naughty creature: what shall be done with her? say, I am ready.Leu. Leave her to Heaven, brave Cosin, they shall tell her how she has sinn'd against 'em, my hand shall never be stain'd with such base bloud: live wicked Mother: that reverend Title be your pardon, for I will use no extremity against you, but leave you to Heaven.Bacha. Hell take you all, or if there be a placeOf torment that exceeds that, get you thither:And till the devils have you, may your livesBe one continued plague, and such a one,That knows no friends nor ending.May all ages that shall succeed, curse you as I do:And if it be possible, I ask it heaven,That your base issues may be ever Monsters,That must for shame of nature and succession,Be drown'd like dogs.Would I had breath to [poyson] you.Leu. Would you had love within you, and such griefAs might become a Mother: look you there,Know you that face? that was Urania:These are the fruits of those unhappy Mothers,That labour with such horrid births as you do:If you can weep, there's cause; poor innocent,Your wickedness has kill'd her: I'll weep for you.Isme. Monstrous woman,Mars would weep at this, and yet she cannot.Leu. Here lies your Minion too, slain by my hand,I will not say you are the cause: yet certain,I know you were [to] blame, the gods forgive you.Isme. See, she stands as if she were inventingSome new destruction for the world.Leu. Ismenus, thou art welcome yet to my sad company.Isme. I come to make you somewhat sadder, Sir.Leu. You cannot, I am at the height already.Isme. Your Fathers dead.Leu. I thought so, Heaven be with him: Oh woman, woman, weep now or never, thou hast made more sorrows than we have eyes to utter.Bac. Now let Heaven fall, I am at the worst of evils, a thing so miserably wretched, that every thing, the last of humane comforts hath left me: I will not be so base and cold, to live and wait the mercies of these men I hate, no, 'tis just I die, since fortune hath left me, my step discent attends me: hand, strike thou home, I have soul enough to guide; and let all know, as I stood a Queen, the same I'll fall, and one with me. [She stabs the Prince with a knife.Leu. Ho.Isme. How do you, Sir?Leu. Nearer my health, than I think any here, my tongue begins to faulter: what is man? or who would be one, when he sees a poor weak woman can in an instant make him none.Dor. She is dead already.Isme. Let her be damn'd already as she is: post all for Surgeons.Leu. Let not a man stirr, for I am but dead:I have some few words which I would have you hear,And am afraid I shall want breath to speak 'em:First to you my Lords, you know Ismenus isUndoubtedly Heir of Lycia, I do beseech you all,When I am dead, to shew your duties to him.Lords. We vow to do't.Leu. I thank you.Next to you Cosin Ismenus, that shall be the Duke,I pray you let the broken Image of CupidBe re-edified, I know all this is done by him.Isme. It shall be so.Leu. Last, I beseech you that my Mother-in-law may have a burial according to —[Dies.Isme. To what, Sir?Dor. There is a full point.Isme. I will interpret for him; she shall have burial according to her own deserts, with dogs.Dor. I would your Majesty would haste for setling of the people.Isme. I am ready.Age. Goe, and let the Trumpets soundSome mournful thing, whilst we convey the bodyOf this unhappy Prince unto the Court,And of that virtuous Virgin to a Grave:But drag her to a ditch, where let her lie,Accurst, whilst one man has a memory.[Exeunt.Cupid's SpeechThe time now of my Revenge draws near.Nor shall it lessen as I am a god,With all the cries and prayers that have been;And those that be to come, though they be infinite,In need and number.The Two Noble Kinsmen
Hymen,
Theseus,
Hippolita,}
Emelia, }Sisters to Theseus
Nymphs,
Three Queens,
Three valiant Knights,
Palamon,} 'The two Noble Kinsmen, in
Arcite,} love with fair Emelia.
Perithous,
Jaylor,
His Daughter, in love with Palamon,
Countrey-men,
Wenches,
A Taborer,
Gerrold, A Schoolmaster.
PROLOGUE
FlorishNew Plays and Maiden-heads are near a-kin,Much follow'd both; for both much money gi'n,If they stand sound, and well: And a good Play(Whose modest Scenes blush on his marriage day,And shake to loose his honour) is like hirThat after holy Tie, and first nights stirYet still is Modesty, and still retainsMore of the Maid to sight, than Husbands pains;We pray our Play may be so; for I'm sureIt has a noble breeder, and a pure,A Learned, and a Poet never wentMore famous yet 'twixt Po, and silver Trent.Chaucer (of all admir'd) the Story gives,There constant to eternity it lives:If we let fall the Nobleness of this,And the first sound this Child hear, be a hiss,How will it shake the bones of that good manAnd make him cry from under-ground. Oh fanFrom me the witless chaff of such a writerThat blasts my Bayes, and my fam'd Works makes lighterThan Robin Hood, this is the fear we bringFor to say Truth, it were an endless thing:And too ambitious to aspire to him;Weak as we are, and almost breathless swimIn this deep water. Do but you hold outYour helping hands, and we shall tack about,And something do to save us: You shall hearScænes, though below his Art, may yet appearWorth two hours travel. To his bones sweet sleep:Content to you. If this Play do not keep,A little dull time from us, we perceiveOur losses fall so thick, we must needs leave. Florish.Actus Primus. Scæna Prima
