THE TRAGEDY OF THIERRY King of France, and his Brother THEODORET. As it was diverse times acted at the Blacke-Friers hy the Kings Maiesties Servants. Written by JOHN FLETCHER Gent.
LONDON, Printed for Humphrey Mosely, and are to be sold at his Shop at the Princes Armes in St. Pauls Church-yard. 1648.
THE TRAGEDIE OF THIERRIE AND THEODORET.
Act. 1.
Scoe. 1.
Enter Theodoret, Brunhalt, Bawdber.
BRVNHALT.
TAxe me with these hot tainters?
Theodoret.
You are too sudaine;
I doe but gently tell you what becomes you,
And what may bend your honor! how these courses
Of loose and lazie pleasures; not suspected
But done and knowne, your mind that grants no limit
And all your Actions followes, which loose people
That see but through a mist of circumstance
Dare terme ambitious; all your wayes hide sores
Opening in the end to nothing but vlcers.
Your instruments like these may call the world
And with a fearfull clamour, to examine
Why, and to what we governe. From example
If not for vertues sake yee may be honest:
There have been great ones, good ones, and 'tis necessary
Because you are your selfe, and by your selfe
A selfe-peece from the touch of power and Iustice,
You should command your self, you may imagine
Which cozens all the world, but chiefly women.
The name of greatnesse glorifies your actions
And strong power like a pent-house, promisse
To shade you from opinion; take heed mother,
And let us all take heede these most abuse us
The sinnes we doe, people behold through opticks,
Which shewes them ten times more than common vices,
And often multiplyes them: then what justice
Dare we inflict upon the weake offenders
When we are theeves our selves?
Brun.
This is, Martell,
Studied and pend unto you, whose base person
I charge you by the love you owe a mother
And as you hope for blessings from her prayers,
Neither to give beliefe to, nor allowance,
Next I tell you Sir, you from whome obedience
Is so farre fled, that you dare taxe a mother;
Nay further, brand her honour with your slanders,
And breake into the treasures of her credit,
Your easinesse is abused, your faith fraited
With lyes, malitious lyes, your merchant mischiefe,
He that never knew more trade then Tales, and tumbling
Suspitious into honest harts; what you or hee,
Or all the world dare lay upon my worth,
[Page]This for your poore opinions: I am shee,
And so will beare my selfe, whose truth and whitenesse
Shall ever stand as far from these detections
As you from dutie; get you better servants
People of honest actions without ends,
And whip these knaves away, they eate your favours,
And turne em unto poysons: my knowne credite
Whom all the Courts a this fide Nile have envied,
And happy shee could fite mee, brought in question
Now in my houres of age and reverence,
When rather superstition should be rendred
And by a Rush that one dayes warmth
Hath shot up to this swelling; give me justice,
Which is his life.
Theod.
This is an impudence,
And he must tell you, that till now mother
Brought yee a sonnes obedience, and now breakes it
Above the sufferance of a sonne.
Bawd.
Blesse us?
For I doe now begin to feele my selfe
Turning into a halter, and the ladder
Turning from me, one pulling at my legs too.
Theod.
These truths are no mans tales, but all mens troubles,
They are, though your strange greatnesse would out stare v'm:
Witnesse the daily Libels, almost Ballads
In every place, almost in every Province,
Are made upon your lust, Taverne discourses,
Crowds cram'd with whispers; Nay, the holy Temples,
Are not without your curses: Now you would blush,
But your blacke tainted blood dare not appeare
For feare I should fright that too.
Brun.
O ye gods!
Theod.
Do not abuse their names: they see your actions,
And your conceald sinnes, though you work like Moles,
Lyes levell to their justice.
Brun.
Art thou a sonne?
Theod.
The more my shame is of so bad a mother,
And more your wretchednesse you let me be so;
But woman, for a mothers name hath left me
Since you have left your honour; mend these ruines,
And build againe that broken fame, and fairely;
Your most intemperate fires have burnt, and quickly
Within these ten dayes take a Monasterie,
A most strickt house, a house where none may whisper,
Where no more light is knowne but what may make yee
Beleeve there is a day where no hope dwels,
Nor comfort but in teares.
Brun.
O miserie!
Theod.
And there to cold repentance, and starv'd penance
Tye your succeeding dayes; or curse me heaven
If all your guilded knaves, brokers, and bedders.
Even he you built from nothing, strong Portalyde,
Be not made ambling Geldings; all your maydes,
If that name doe not shame vm, fed with spunges
To sucke away their rancknesse; and your selfe
Onely to empty Pictures and dead Arras
Offer your old desires.
Brun.
I will not curse you,
Nor lay a prophesie upon your pride,
Though heaven might grant me both: unthankfull, no,
I nourish'd yee, 'twas I, poore I groand for you,
'Twas I felt what you sufferd, I lamented
When sicknesse or sad houres held backe your swetnesse;
Twas I payd for your sleepes, I watch your wakings:
My daily cares and feares, that rid, plaid, walkt,
Discoursd, discoverd, fed and fashioned you
To what you are, and am I thus rewarded,
Theod.
But that I know these teares I could dote on em,
And kneele to catch vm as they fall, then knit vm
Into an Armlet, ever to be honourd;
But woman they are dangerous drops, deceitfull,
Full of the weeper, anger and ill nature.
Brun.
In my last houres despisd.
Theod.
That Text should tell,
How ugly it becomes you to erre thus;
Your flames are spent, nothing but smoake maintaines ye;
And those your favour and your bounty suffers
Lye not with you, they do but lay lust on you,
And then imbrace you as they caught a palsie;
Your power they may love, and like spanish Iennetts
Commit with such a gust.
Bawd.
I would take whipping,
And pay a fine now.
Exit Bawdber
Theod.
But were yee once disgraced,
Or fallen in wealth, like leaves they would flie from you,
And become browse for every beast; you will'd me
To stocke my selfe with better friends, and servants
With what face dare you see mee, or any mankind,
That keepe a race of such unheard of relicks,
Bawds, Leachers; Letches, femall fornications,
And children in their rudiments to vices,
Old men to shew examples: and lest Art
Should loose her selfe in act, to call backe custome,
Leave these, and live like Niobe. I told you how
And when your eyes have dropt away remembrance
Of what you were. I am your sonne! performe it.
Brun.
Am I a woman, and no more power in me,
To tye this Tyger up, a soule to no end,
Have I got shame and lost my will; Brunhalt
From this accursed houre, forget thou bor'st him,
Or any part of thy blood gave him living,
Let him be to thee an Antipathy,
A thing thy nature sweates at, and turnes backward:
Throw all the mischiefes on him that thy self,
Or women worse than thou art, have invented,
And kill him drunke, or doubtfull.
Enter Bawdber, Protaldie, Lecure.
Bawd.
Such a sweat,
I never was in yet, clipt of my minstrels;
My toyes to prick up wenches withall; uphold me,
It runnes like snowballs through me.
Brun.
Now my varlets,
My slaves, my running thoughts, my executions.
Baw.
Lord how shee lookes!
Brun.
Hell take yee all.
Baw.
We shall be gelt.
Brun.
Your Mistresse,
Your old and honord Mistresse, you tyr'd curtals
Suffers for your base sinnes; I must bee cloyster'd,
Mew'd up to make mee vertuous who can helpe this,
Now you stand still like Statues; Come Protaldye,
One kisse before I perish, kisse me strongly
Another, and a third.
Lecure.
I feare not gelding
As long as shee holds this way.
Brun.
The young courser,
That unlickt lumpe of mine, will winne thy Mistris;
Must I bee chast Protaldye?
Fro.
Thus and thus Lady:
Brun.
It shall bee so, let him seeke fooles for Vestalls,
Here is my Cloyster.
Lecure.
But what safety Madam
Find you in staying here?
Brun.
Thou hast hit my meaning,
I will to Thierry sonne of my blessings,
And there complnine mee, tell my tale so subtilly,
That the cold stones shall sweat; and Statues mourne,
And thou shalt weepe Protaldye in my witnesse,
[Page]And there forsweare.
Bawd.
Yes, any thing but gelding,
I am not yet in quiet Noble Lady,
Let it bee done to night, for without doubt
To morrow we are capons.
Brun.
Sleepe shall not seize me,
Nor any food befriend me but thy kisses.
E're I forsake this desart, I live honest;
He may as well bid dead men walke, I humbled,
Or bent below my power? let night-dogs teare me,
And goblins ride me in my sleep to jelly,
Ere I forsake my spheare.
Lecure.
This place you will.
Brun.
What's that to you, or any,
Yee dosse, you powder'd pigsbones, rubarbe glister:
Must you know my designes, a colledge on you,
The proverbe makes but fools.
Prota.
But Noble Lady.
Brun.
You a sawcie asse too, off I will not,
If you but anger me, tell a sow-gelder
Have cut you all like colts, hold mee and kisse me,
For I am too much troubled; make up my treasure,
And get me horses private, come about it.
Exeunt.
Act. 1. Scoe. 2.
Enter Theodoret, Martell. &c.
Theod.
Though I assure my self
(Martell)
your counsellHad no end but allegeance and my honour:
Yet I am jealous, I have pass'd the bounds
Of a sons duty; for suppose her worse
Then you report, not by bare circumstance,
But evident proofe confirm'd ha's given her out:
Yet since all weaknesses in a kingdome, are
No more to be severely punished than
The faults of Kings are by the Thunderer
As oft as they offend, to be reveng'd:
If not for piety, yet for policie,
Since some are of necessitie to be spar'd,
I might, and now I wish I had not look'd
With such strict eyes into her follies.
Mart.
Sir, a duty well discharg'd is never follow'd
By sad repentance, nor did your Highnesse ever
Make payment of the debt you ow'd her, better
Than in your late reproofes not of her, but
Those crimes that made her worthy of reproofe.
The most remarkeable point in which Kings differ
From private men, is that they not alone
Stand bound to be in themselves innocent,
But that all such as are allyde to them
In neernesse, or dependance, by their care
Should be free from suspition of all crime;
And you have reap'd a double benefit
From this last great act: first in the restraint
Of her lost pleasures, you remove th'example
From others of the like licentiousnesse,
Then when 'tis known that your severitie
Extended to your mother, who dares hope for
The least indulgence or connivence in
The easiest slips that may prove dangerous
To you or to the Kingdome?
Theod.
I must grant
Your reasons good
(Martell)
if as she isMy mother, she had been my subject, or
That only here she could make challenge to
A place of being; but I know her temper
And feare (if such a word become a King,)
That in discovering her, I have let loose
A Tygres, whose rage being shut up in darknesse,
Was grievous onely to her selfe; which brought
Into the view of light, her cruelty,
Provok'd by her owne shame, will turne on him
That foolishly presum'd to let her see
The loath'd shape of her owne deformitie.
Mart.
Beasts of that nature, when rebellilious threats
Begin to appeare only in their eyes,
Or any motion that may give suspition
Of the least violence should be chaind up;
Their fangs and teeth, and all their meanes of hurt,
Par'd off, and knockt out, and so made unable
To do ill; they would soon begin to loath it.
[Page]I'le apply nothing, but had your Grace done,
Or would doe yet, what your lesse forward zeale
In words did onely threaten, far lesse danger
Would grow from acting it on her, then may
Perhaps have being from her apprehension
Of what may once bee practis'd: for beleeve it,
Who confident of his own power, presumes
To spend threats on an enemy, that hath meanes
To shun the worst they can effect, gives armor
To keepe off his owne strength; nay more, disarmes
Himselfe, and lyes unguarded 'gainst all harmes,
Or doubt, or malice may produce.
Theod.
'Tis true.
And such a desperate cure I would have us'd,
If the intemperate patient had not been
So neer me as a mother; but to her,
And from me gentle unguents only were
To be appli'd: and as physicians
When they are sick of feavers, eate themselves
Such viands as by their directions are
Forbid to others though alike diseas'd;
So shee considering what shee is, may challenge
Those cordialls to restore her, by her birth,
And priviledge, which at no suit must be
Granted to others.
Mart.
May your pious care
Effect but what it aimd at, I am silent.
Enter Devitty.
Theod.
What laught you at Sir?
Vitry.
I have some occasion,
I should not else; and the same cause perhaps
That makes me do so, may beget in you
A contrary effect.
Theod.
Why, what's the matter?
Vitry.
I see and joy to see that sometimes poore men,
(And most of them are good) stand more indebted
For meanes to breathe to such as are held vitious,
Than those that weare like Hypocrites on their foreheads,
Th'ambitious titles of just men and vertuous.
Mart.
Speake to the purpose.
Vitry.
Who would e'rehave thought
The good old Queene, your Highnesse reverend mother,
Into whose house (which was an Academ,)
In which all principles of lust were practis'd:
No souldier might presume to set his foot;
At whose most blessed intercession
All offices in the state, were charitably
Confer'd on Panders, o're-worne chamber wrestlers,
And such physicians as knew how to kill
With safety under the pretence of saving,
And such like children of a monstrous peace,
That she I y should at the length provid
That men of warre, and honest younger brothers,
That would not owe their feeding to their cod-peece,
Should be esteem'd of more than mothers or drones,
Or idle vagabonds.
Theod.
I am glad to heare it,
Prethee what course takes shee to doe this?
Vitry.
One that cannot faile, shee and vertuous traine,
With her jewels, and all that was worthy the carrying,
The last night left the court, and as 'tis more
Then said, for 'tis confirm'd by such as met her.
She's fled unto your brother.
Theod.
How?
Vitry.
Nay storme not,
For if that wicked tongue of hers hath not
Forgot its pace, and Thierry be a Prince
Of such a fiery temper, as report
Has given him out for; you shall have cause to use
Such poore men as my selfe; and thanke us too
For comming to you, and without petitions;
Pray heaven reward the good old woman for't.
Mirt.
I foresaw this.
Theod.
I heare a tempest comming,
That sings mine & my kingdomes ruine, hast,
[Page]And cause a troope of horse to fetch her back:
Yet stay, why should I use meanes to bring in
A plague that of her selfe hath left me? Muster
Our Souldiers up, we'ele stand upon our gard,
For we shall be attempted; yet forbeare
The inequality of our powers will yeeld me
Nothing but losse in their defeature: something
Must be done, and done suddainly, save your labor,
In this i'le use no counsell but mine owne,
That course though dangerous is best. Command
Our daughter be in readinesse, to attend us:
Martell, your company, and honost Vitry,
Thou wilt along with me.
Virty.
Yes any where,
To be worse then I am here, is past my feare.
Exeunt
Act. 2.
Scoe. 1.
Enter Thierry, Brunhalt, Bawdber, Lecure, &c.
Thier.
You are here in a sanctuary; and that viper
(Who since he hath forgot to be a sonne,
I much disdaine to thinke of as a brother)
Had better in despight of all the gods,
To have raized their Temples, and spurn'd downe their altars,
Then in his impious abuse of you,
To have called on my just anger.
Brun.
Princely sonne;
And in this worthy of a neere name,
I have in the relation of my wrongs
Been modest, and no word my tongue delivered
I expresse my insupportable injuries,
But gave my heart a wound: nor has my grief
Being from what I suffer; but that he
Degenerate as he is, should be the actor
Of my extreames; and force me to devide
The fiers of brotherly affection,
Which should make but one flame.
Thier.
That part of his
As it deserves shall burne no more, if or
The teares of Orphans, widdows, or all such
As dare acknowledge him to be their Lord,
Ioyned to your wrongs, with his heart blood have powre
To put it out: and you, and these your servants,
Who in our favours shal finde cause to know
In that they left not you, how deere we hold them;
Shall give Theodoret to understand,
His ignorance of the prizelesse Iewel, which
He did possesse in you, mother in you,
Of which I am more proud to be the doner,
Then if the absolute rule of all the world
Were offer'd to this hand; once more you are welcome,
Which with all ceremony due to greatnesse
I would make knowne, but that our just revenge
Admits not of delay; your hand Lord Generall.
Enter Protaldie, with souldiers.
Brun.
Your favour and his merit I may say
Have made him such but I am jelious how
Your subjects will receive it.
Thier.
How my subjects?
What doe you make of me? Oh heaven! my subjects!
How base should I esteeme the name of Prince
If that poore dust, were any thing before
The whirlewinde of my absolute command?
Let them be happy and rest so contented?
They pay the tribute of their harts & knees,
To such a Prince that not alone has power,
To keepe his owne but to increase it; that
Although he hath a body may adde too
The fam'd night labour of strong Hercules:
Yet is the master of a continence
That so can temper it, that I forbeare
Their daughters, and their wives, whose hands though strong,
As yet have never drawne by unjust meane
Their proper wealth into my treasury,
But I grow glorious, and let them beware
That in their least repining at my pleasures,
They change not a milde Prince, (for if provok'd
I dare and will be so) into a Tyrant.
Brun.
You see there's hope that we shall rule againe,
And your falne fortunes rise.
Bawdb.
I hope your Highnesse
Is pleas'd that I should still hold my place with you
For I have been so long us'd to provide you
Fresh bits of flesh since mine grew stale, that surely
If cashir'd now, I shall prove a bad Cator
In the Fish-market of cold chastity,
Lecure.
For me I am your owne, nor since I first
Knew what it was to serve you, have remembred
I had a soule, but such a one whose essence
Depended wholy on your Highnesse pleasure,
And therefore Madam—
Brun.
Rest assur'd you are,
Such instruments we must not lose.
Lecure-Bawdb.
Our service.
Thier.
You have view'd them then, what's your opinion of them?
In this dull time of peace, we have prepar'd them
Apt for the war. Ha?
Prota
Sir, they have limbes
That promise strength sufficient, and rich armors
The Souldiers best lov'd wealth: more it appeares
They have beene drill'd, nay very prettily drill'd
For many of them can discharge their muskets
Without the danger of throwing off their heads,
Or being offensive to the standers by,
By sweating too much backwards; nay I finde
They know the right, and left hand file, and may
With some impulsion no doubt be brought
To passe the A, B, C, of war, and come
Vnto the Horne-booke.
Thier.
Well, that care is yours;
And see that you effect it.
Prota.
I am slow
To promise much; but if within ten dayes,
By precepts and examples, not drawne from
Worme eaten presidents of the Roman wars
But from mine owne, I make them not transcend
All that e're yet bore armes, let it be said,
Protaldye bragges, which would be unto me
As hatefull as to be estem'd a coward:
For Sir, few Captaines know the way to win him,
And make the souldiers valiant. You shall seeme
Lie with them in their trenches, talke, and drinke,
And be together drunke; and what seemes stranger,
We'le sometimes wench together, which once practis'd
And with some other care and hidden acts,
They being al made mine, i'le breath into thē
Such fearelesse resolution and such fervor,
That though I brought them to beseege a fort,
Whose walls were steeple high, and cannon proofe,
Not to be undermind, they should fly up,
Like swallowes, and the parapet once wonne;
For proofe of their obedience, if I willed them
They should leape downe againe and what is more,
By some directions they should have from me,
Not breake their neckes.
Thi.
This is above beleefe.
Brun.
Sir, on my knowledge though he hath spoke much,
He's able to do more.
Lecure.
She meanes on her.
Brun.
And howsoever in his thankfulnesse,
For some few favors done him by my selfe,
He left Austracia, not Theodoret,
Though he was chiefely aim'd at, could have laid
Withall his Dukedomes power, that shame upon him,
Which in his barbarous malice to my honor,
He swore with threats to effect.
Thier.
I cannot but
Beleeve you Madam, thou art one degree
Growne neerer to my hart, and I am proud
To have in thee so glorious a plant
Transported hither; in thy conduct, we
Go on assur'd of conquest our remove
Shall be with the next sunne.
Enter Theoderet, Memberge, Martell, Devitry.
Lecure.
Amazement leave me, 'tis hee.
Bawdb.
We are againe undone.
Prot.
Our guilt hath no assurance nor defence.
Bawdb.
If now your ever ready wit faile to protect us,
We shall be all discoverde
Brun.
Be not so
In your amazement and your foolish feares,
I am prepared for't.
Theod.
How? Not one poore welcome,
In answer of so long a jorney made
Onely to see your brother.
Thier.
I have stood
Silent thus long, and am yet unresolu'd
Whether to entertaine thee on my sword,
As fits a parricide of a mothers honor;
Or whether being a Prince, I yet stand bound
(Though thou art here condemn'd) to give thee hearing
Before I axecute. What foolish hope,
(Nay pray you forbeare) or desperate madnesse rather,
(Vnlesse thou comest assurde, I stand in debt
As far to all impiety as thy selfe)
Has made thee bring thy neck unto the axe?
Since looking onely here, it cannot but
Draw fresh blood from thy sear'd up conscience,
To make thee sencible of that horror, which
They ever beare about them, that like Nero,
Like said I? thou are worse: since thou darest strive
In her defame to murther thine alive.
Theod.
That she that long since had the boldnes to
Be a bad woman, (though I wish some other
Should so report her) could not want the cunning,
(Since they go hand in hand) to lay faire colours
On her blacke crimes, I was resolu'd before,
Nor make I doubt but that shee hath impoyson'd
Your good opinion of me, and so far
Incens'd your rage against me, that too late
I come to plead my innocence.
Brun.
To excuse thy impious scandalls rather.
Prot.
Rather forc'd with feare to be compel'd to come.
Thierry
Forbeare.
Theod.
This moves not mee, and yet had I not beene
Transported on my owne integrity,
I neither am so odious to my subjects,
Nor yet so barren of defence, but that
By force I could have justified my guilt,
Had I been faulty, but since innocence
Is to it selfe an hundred thousand gardes,
And that there is no sonne, but though he owe
That name to an ill mother, but stands bound
Rather to take away with his owne danger
From the number of her faults, then for his owne
Security, to adde unto them This,
This hath made me to prevent th'expence
Of bloud on both sides, the injuries, the rapes,
(Pages, that ever waite upon the war:)
The accompt of all which, since you are the cause,
Believe it, would have been required from you;
Rather I say to offer up my daughter,
Who living onely could revenge my death,
With my hart blood a sacrifice to your anger
Then that you should draw on your head more curses
Then yet you have deserved.
Thier.
I do begin
To feele an alteration in my nature,
And in his full sail'd confidence, a showre
Of gentle raine, that falling on the fire
Of my hot rage hath quenched it, ha! I would
Once more speake roughly to him, and I will
Yet there is some thing whispers to me, that
I have said too much. How is my heart devided
Betweene the duty of a sonne, and love
Due to a brother! yet I am swayed heere,
And must aske of you, how tis possible
You can effect me that have learned to hate,
Where you should pay all love?
Theod.
Which joynde with duty,
Vpon my knees I should be proud to tender,
Had she not us'd her selfe so many swords
To cut those bonds that title me to it.
Thier.
Fie no more of that.
Theod.
Alas it is a theame,
I take no pleasure to discourse of; would
It could assoone be buried to the world,
As it should die to me: nay more, I wish
(Next to my part of heaven) that shee would spend
[Page]The last part of her life so here, that all
Indifferent Judges might condemne me, for
A most malicious slanderer, nay texde it
Vpon my forehead, if you hate me mother,
Put me to such a shame, pray you do, believe it
There is no glory that may fall upon me,
Can equall the delight I should receive
In that disgrace; provided the repeale
Of your long banish'd vertues, and good name,
Vsher'd me to it.
Thier.
See, she shewes her selfe
An easie mother, which her teares confirme.
Theod.
Tis a good signe, the comfortablest raine
I ever saw.
Thier.
Embrace: why this is well,
May never more but love in you, and duty
On your part rise between you.
Baudb.
Do you heare Lord Generall,
Does not your new stamped honor on the suddaine
Begin to grow sicke?
Prota.
Yes J finde it fit,
That putting off my armor J should think of
Some honest hospitall to retire to.
Bawdb.
Sure although J am a bawd, yet being a Lord.
They cannot whip me for't, what's your opinion?
Lecure.
The beadle will resolve you, for J cannot,
There is something that more neer concerns my selfe,
That calls upon me.
Mart.
Note but yonder scarabes,
That liude upon the dunge of her base pleasures,
How from the feare that she may yet prove honest
Hange downe their wicked heads.
Vitry.
What is that to me?
Though they and all the polcats of the Court,
Were trust together, I perceive not how
Jt can advantage me a cardekue,
To helpe to keepe me honost.
A horne.
Enter a Post.
Thier.
How, from whence?
Post.
These letters will resolve your grace.
Thier.
What speake they?
Reades:
How all things meete to make me this day hppy?
See mother, brother, to your reconcilement
Another blessing almost equall to it,
Js comming towards me; my contracted wife
Ordella daughter of wife Dataricke
The King of Aragon is on our confines;
Then to arrive at such a time, when you
Are happily here to honor with your presence
Our long defer'd, but much wished nuptiall,
Falls out above expression; heaven be plea'd
That J may use these blessings powerd on me
With moderation.
Brun.
Hell and furies ayde me,
That J may have power to avert the plagues
That presse upon me.
Thier.
Two dayes journy sayest thou,
We will set forth to meete her, in the meane time
See all things be preparde to entertaine her
Nay let me have your companies, there's a Forrest
Jn the mid way shall yeild us hunting sport,
To ease our travale, ile not have a brow
But shall weare mirth upon it, therefore cleer them.
We'ele wash away, all sorrow in glad feasts
And the war we meane to men, we'le make on beasts.
Exeunt omnes, praeter Brun. Bawdber, Portaldy, Lecure.
Brun.
Oh that I had the Magicke to transforme you
Into the shape of such, that your own hounds
Might teare you peece meale; are you so stupid?
No word of comfort? have I fed you mothers
From my excesse of moysture, with such cost
And can you yeild no other retribution,
But to devour your maker, pandar sponge,
Impoysner, all growne barren?
Prota.
You your selfe
That are our mover, and for whom alone
Wee live, have fail'd your self ingiving way
To the reconcilement of your sonnes.
Lecure.
Which if
You had prevented, or would teach us how
They might againe be severd, we could easily
Remove all other hindrances that stop
The passage of your pleasures.
Bawdb.
And for me,
If I faile in my office to provide you
Fresh delicates hang me.
Brun.
Oh you are dull, and finde not
The cause of my vexation; their reconcilement
Is a mock castle built upon the sand
By children, which when I am pleas'd to o'rethrow,
I can with ease spurne downe.
Lecure.
If so, from whence
Growes your affliction?
Brun.
My griefe comes along
With the new Queene, in whose grace all my power
Must suffer shipwrack: for me now,
That hitherto have kept the first, to know
A second place, or yeeld the least precedence
To any others death; to have my sleepes
Lesse enquir'd after, or my rising up
Saluted with lesse reverence, or my gates
Empty of suitors, or the Kings great favours
To passe through any hand but mine, or hee
Himselfe to be directed by another,
Would bee to mee: doe you understand mee, yet
No meanes to prevent this.
Prota.
Fame gives her out
To be a woman of chastity
Not to bee wrought upon; and therefore Madam
For mee, though I have pleas'd you, to attempt her
Were to no purpose.
Brun.
Tush, some other way.
Bawdb.
Faith I know none else, all my bringing up
Aim'd at no other learning.
Lecure.
Give me leave,
If my art faile mee not, I have thought on
A speeding project.
Brun.
What i'st? but effect it,
And thou shalt be my Aesculapius,
Thy image shall be set up in pure gold,
To which i'le fall downe and worship it.
Lecure.
The Lady is faire.
Brun.
Exceeding faire.
Lecure.
And young.
Brun.
Some fifteene at the most.
Lecure.
And loves the King with equall ardor.
Brun.
More, she dotes on him.
Lecure.
Well then, what thinke you if I make a drinke
Which given unto him on the bridall night
Shall for five dayes so rob his faculties,
Of all ability to pay that duty,
Which new made wives expect, that she shall sweare
She is not match'd to a man.
Prota.
'Twere rare.
Lecure.
And then,
If she have any part of woman in her,
She'le or fly our, or at least give occasion
Of such a breach which nere can bee made up,
Since he that to all else did never faile
Of as much as could be perform'd by man
Proves only ice to her.
Brun.
Tis excellent.
Bawdb.
The Physician
Helps ever at a dead lift; a fine calling,
That can both raise, and take downe, out upon thee.
Brun.
For this one service I am ever thine,
Prepare it; ile give it him my selfe, for you Protaldye,
By this kisse, and our promis'd sport at night,
(Doe coniure you to beare up, not minding
The opposition of Theodoret,
Or any of his followers; what so ere
You are, yet appeare valiant, and make good
The opinion that is had of you: for my selfe
In the new Queenes remove, being made secure,
Feare not, ile make the future building sure,
Exeunt.
Wind hornes.
Enter Theodoret, Thierry.
Theod.
This Stag stood well, and cunningly.
Thierry
My horse;
I am sure, has found it, for her sides are
Blooded from flanke to shoulder, where's the troope?
Enter Martell.
Theodoret.
Past homeward, weary and tir'd as we are,
Now Martell, have you remembred what we thought of?
Mart.
Yes Sir, I have snigled him, and if there be
[Page]Any desert in his blood, beside the itch,
Or manly heat, but what decoctions
Leaches, and callises have cram'd into him,
Your Lordship shall know perfect.
Thier.
What's that, may not I know too?
Theod.
Yes Sir,
To that end we cast the project.
Thierry.
What i'st?
Mart.
A desire Sir,
Upon the gilded flag your Graces favour
Has stuck up for a Generall, and to informe you,
For this houre hee shall passe the test, what valour,
Staid judgement, soule, or safe discretion
Your mothers wandring eyes, and your obedience
Have flung upon us, to assure your knowledge,
Hee can bee, dare bee, shall bee, must bee nothing,
Loade him with piles of honours; set him off
With all the cunning foyles that may deceive us:
But a poore, cold, unspirited, unmanner'd,
Unhonest, unaffected, undone, foole,
And most unheard of coward, a meere lumpe
Made to loade beds withall, and like a night-mare,
Ride Ladies that forger to say their prayers,
One that dares onely bee diseased, and in debt,
Whose body mewes more plaisters every month,
Than women doe old faces.
Thier.
No more, I know him,
I now repent my error, take yourtime
And try him home, ever thus far reserv'd,
You tie your anger up.
Mart.
I lost it else Sir.
Thier.
Bring me his sword fair taken without violence.
For that will best declare him.
Theod.
That's the thing.
Thier.
And my best horse is thine.
Mart.
Your Graces servant.
Exit.
Theod.
You'le hunt no more Sir.
Thier.
Not to day, the weather
Is growne too warme, besides the dogs are spent,
Wee'l take a cooler morning, let's to horse,
And hollow in the troope.
Exeunt.
Wind hornes.
Enter 2 Huntsmen.
1.
I marry Twainer,
This woman gives indeed, these are the Angels
That are the keepers saints.
2.
I like a woman
That handles the deeres dowsets with discretion;
And payes us by proportion.
1.
Tis no treason
To thinke this good old Lady has a stump yet
That may require a corrall.
2.
And the bells too.
Enter Protaldye.
Shee has lost a friend of mee else, but here's the clarke,
No more for feare ath bell-ropes.
Prota.
How now Keepers,
Saw you the King?
1.
Yes Sir, hee's newly mounted,
And as we take't ridden home.
Pro.
Farewell then.
Exit. Keepers
Enter Martell.
My honour'd Lord, Fortune has made mee happy
To meet with such a man of men to fide me.
Protald.
How sir, I know ye not
Nor what your fortune meanes.
Mart.
Few words shall serve, I am betraide Sir:
Innocent and honest; malice and violence.
Are both against mee, basely and fowlely layd for;
For my life Sir, danger is now about me,
Now in my throat Sir.
Protald.
Where sir?
Mart.
Nay I feare not,
And let it now powre downe in stormes upon me,
I have met with a noble guard,
Prot.
Your meaning Sir,
For I have present businesse.
Mart.
O my Lord,
[Page]Your honour cannot leave a gentleman
At least a faire designe of this brave nature,
To which your worth is wedded, your profession
Hatch't in, and made one peece in such a perill,
There are but six my Lord.
Prot.
What fix?
Mart.
Six villaines sworne, and in pay to kill mee.
Protaldye.
Six?
Mart.
Alas Sir, what can six doe, or sixe score now you are present,
Your name will blow em off, say they have shot too,
Who dare present a peece? your valour's proofe Sir.
Prot.
No, i'le assure you Sir, nor my discretion
Against a multitude; 'Tis true, I dare fight
Enough, and well enough, and long enough:
But wisedome Sir, and weight of what is on me,
In which I am no more mine owne, nor yours Sir,
Nor as I take it any single danger,
But what concerns my place, tels me directly,
Beside my person, my faire reputation,
If I thrust into crowds, and seeke occasions
Suffers opinion, six? Why Hercules
Avoyded two men, yet not to give example:
But only for your present dangers sake Sir,
Were there but foure Sir, I car'd not if I killd them,
They will serve to whet my sword.
Mart.
There are but foure Sir,
I did mistake them, but foure such as Europe
Excepting your great valour.
Prot.
Well considerd,
I will not meddle with um, foure in honour,
Are equall with fourescore, besides they are people
Only directed by their fury.
Mart.
So much nobler shall bee your way of justice.
Prot.
That I find not.
Mart.
You will not leave me thus?
Prot.
I would not leave you, but looke you Sir,
Men of my place and businesse, must not
Be questioned thus.
Mart.
You cannot passe Sir,
Now they have seene mee with you without danger.
They are here Sir within hearing, take but two.
Prot.
Let the law take um take a tree Sir,
Ile take my horse, that you may keepe with safety,
If they have brought no hand-sawes, within this houre
Ile send you rescue, and a toyle to take um.
Mart.
You shall not goe so poorely, stay but one Sir.
Prot.
I have beene so hamperde with these rescues,
So hewde and torturde, that the truth is Sir,
I have mainely vowde against um, yet for your sake,
If as you say there be but one, ile stay.
And see faire play a both sides.
Mart.
There is no
More Sir, and as I doubt a base one too.
Prot.
Fie on him, goe lugge him out by the eares.
Mart.
Yes,
This is he Sir, the basest in the kingdome.
Prot.
Doe you know me?
Mart
Yes, for a generall foole,
A knave, a coward, and upstart stallion bawb.
Beast, barking puppy, that dares not bite.
Prot.
The best man best knowes patience
Mart.
Yes,
This way Sir, now draw your sword, and right you,
Or render it to me, for one you shall doe.
Pro.
If wearing it may do you any honor,
I shall be glad to grace you, there it is Sir.
Mart.
Now get you home, and telll your Lady Mistris,
Shee has shot up a sweet mushrump, quit your place too,
And say you are counselde well, thou wilt be beaten else
By thine owne lanceprisadoes; when they know thee,
That tunns of oyl of roses will not cure thee;
Goe get you to your foyning worke at Court,
And learne to sweat againe, and eat dry mutton;
An armor like a frost will search your bones,
And make you roare you rogue; not a reply,
For if you doe, your eares goe off.
Prot.
Stil patience.
Exeunt.
Loud musick, A Banquet set out.
Enter Trierry, Ordella, Brunhalt, Theodoret, Lecure, Bawdber. &c.
Thier.
It is your place, and though in all things else
You may and ever shall command mee, yet
In this ile bee obeyde.
Ordella.
Sir, the consent,
That made me yours, shall never teach me to
Repent I am so, yet bee you but pleasde
To give mee leave to say so much; the honour
You offer mee were better given to her,
To whom you owe the power of giving.
Thier,
Mother,
You heare this and rejoyce in such a blessing
That payes to you so large a share of duty,
But he no more, for as you hold a place
Neerer my heart than shee, you must sit neerest
To all those graces, that are in the power
Of Majesty to bestow.
Brun.
Which ile provide,
Shall bee short liude, Lecure.
Lecure.
I have it ready.
Brun.
'Tis well, waite on our cup.
Lecure.
You honour me.
Thier.
We are dull,
No object to provoke mirth.
Theod.
Martell,
If you remember Sir, will grace your Feast
With some thing that will yeld matter of mirth,
Fit for no common view.
Thier.
Touching Protaldye.
Theod.
You have it.
Brun.
What of him, I feare his basenesse
aside
In spight of all the titles that my favours
Have cloth'd him, which will make discovery
Of what is yet conceal'd.
Enter Martell.
Theod.
Looke Sir, he has it,
Nay wee shall have peace when so great a souldier
As the renoun d Protaldye, will give up
His sword rather then use it.
Brun.
'Twas thy plot,
Which I will turn on thine own head.
aside
Thier.
Pray you speake,
How wonne you him to part from 't?
Mart.
Wonne him Sir,
He would have yielded it upon his knees
Before hee would have hazarded the exchange
Of a phillip of the forehead: had you will'd mee,
I durst have undertooke he should have sent you
His nose, provided that the losse of it
Might have sav'd the rest of his face: hee is Sir
The most unutterable coward that ere nature
Blest with hard shoulders, which were onley given him,
To the ruine of bastinados.
Thierry
Possible.
Theod.
Observe but how she frets.
Mart.
Why beleeve it:
But that I know the shame of this disgrace,
Will make the beast to live with such, and never
Presume to come more among men; i'le hazard
My life upon it, that a boy of twelve
Should scourge him hither like a parish top,
And make him dance before you.
Brun.
Slave thou liest,
Thou dar'st aswell speake treason in the hearing
Of those that have the power to punish it,
As the least sillable of this before him,
But 'tis thy hate to me.
Martell.
Nay, pray you Madam,
I have no eares too heare you, though a foote
To let you understand what he is,
Brun
Villaine.
Theod.
You are to violent.
Enter Protaldye.
The worst that can come
Is blanketting; for beating, and such vertues
I have been long acquainted with.
Mart.
Oh strange!
Bawdb.
Behold the man you talke of,
Brun.
Give me leave,
Or free thy (selfe think in what place you are)
From the foule imputation that is laid
Vpon thy valour (be bold, i'le protect you)
Or here I vow (deny it or forsweare it)
These honours which thou wearest unworthily,
[Page]Which be but impudent enough and keepe them,
Shall be torne from thee with thy eyes.
Prot.
I have it,
My valour! is there any here beneath,
The stile of king, dares question it?
Thier.
This is rare.
Prot.
Which of my actions, which have still been noble,
Has rendred me suspected?
Thierry.
Nay Martell,
You must not fall off.
Mart.
Oh Sir, feare it not,
Doe you know this sword?
Prot.
Yes.
Mart.
Pray you on what termes
Did you part with it?
Prota.
Part with it say you?
Mert.
So.
Thier.
Nay study not an answer, confesse freely.
Prota.
Oh I remember't now, at the stags falls,
As we to day were hunting, a poore fellow,
And now I view you better, I may say
Much of your pitch: this silly rech I spoke of
With his petition falling at my feet,
(Which much against my will he kist,) desir'd
That as a special meanes for his preferment,
I would vochsafe to let him use my sword,
To cut off the stags head,
Brun.
Will you heare that?
Bawdb.
This lie beares a similitude of truth.
Prota.
I ever courteous, (a great weakenesse in me)
Granted his humble suite.
Mart.
Oh impudence?
Thier.
This change is excellent,
Mart.
A word with you,
Denie it not, I was that man disguisde,
You know my temper, and as you respect
A dayly cudgelling for one whole yeare,
Without a second pulling by the eares,
Or tweakes by the nose, or the most pretious balme
You us'd of patience, patience do you marke me,
Confesse before these kings with what base feare
Thou didst deliver it.
Prot.
Oh! I shall burst,
And if I have not instant liberty
To teare this fellow limbe by limbe, the wrong.
Will breake my hart, although Herculean,
And somewhat bigger, there's my gage, pray you here
Let me redeeme my credit.
Thierry.
Ha, ha, forbeare.
Mart.
Pray you let me take it up, and if I do not
Against all ods of armor and of weapons,
VVith this make him confesse it on his knees
Cut off my head.
Prot.
No, that is my office.
Bawdb.
Fie, you take the hangmans place.
Ordella.
Nay good my Lord
Let me attone this difference, do not suffer
Our bridall night to be the Centaures feast,
You are a knight and bound by oath to grant
All just suits unto Ladies; for my sake
Forget your suppos'd wrong.
Prot.
Well, let him thanke you,
For your sake he shall live, perhaps a day,
And may be, on submission longer,
Theod.
Nay, Martell, you must be patient.
Mart.
I am yours,
And this slave shall be once more mine.
Thier.
Sit all;
One health, and so to bed, for I too long
Deferre my choisest delicates.
Brun.
Which if poyson.
Have any Power, thou shalt like Tantalus
Behold and never taste; be carefull.
Lecure.
Feare not.
Brun.
Though it be rare in our sex, yet for once
I will begin a health.
Thier.
Let it come freely.
Brun.
Lecure, the cup; heere to the sonne we hope
This night shall be an Embrion.
Thierry.
You have nam'd
A blessing that I most desir'd, I pledge you,
Give me a larger cup, that is too little
Vnto so great a god.
Brun.
Nay, then you wrong me,
Follow as I began.
Thierry.
Well as you please.
Brun.
Ist done?
Lecure.
Vnto your wish, I warrant you,
For this night I durst trust him with my mother.
Their.
So, 'tis gone round, lights.
Brun.
Pray you use my service.
Ordella.
'Tis that which I shall ever owe you Madam,
And must have none from you, pray you pardon me.
Thier.
Good rest to all.
Theod.
And to you pleasant labour.
Mart.
Your company, Madam good night
Exeunt all, but Brunhalt, Portal Lecure, Bawdber.
Brun.
Nay you have cause to blush, but I will hide it,
And what's more I forgive you; ist not pitty
That thou that art the first to enter combat
With any woman, and what is more, orecome her,
In which shee is best pleas'd, should be so fearefull
To meete a man.
Prot.
Why would you have me lose
That bloud that is dedicated to your service
In any other qaurrell.
Brun.
No, reserve it.
As I will study to preserve thy credit,
You sirha; be't your care to find out on
That is poore though valiant, that at any rate
Will, to redeeme my servants reputation,
Receive a publique baffling.
Bawdb.
VVould your Highnesse
VVere pleas'd to informe mee better of your purpose.
Brun
VVhy one Sir, that would thus be box'd
Or kick'd, doe you apprehend me now?
Bawdb.
I feele you Madam,
The man that shall receive this from my Lord,
Shall have a thousand crownes.
Prot.
Hee shall,
Bawd.
besides
His day of bastinadoing past o're,
Hee shall not lose your Grace, nor your good favour.
Brun.
That shall make way to it.
Bawdb.
It must be a man
Of credit in the Court, that is to be
The foyle unto your valour.
Brot.
True, it should.
Bawdb.
And if hee have place there, 'tis not the worse.
Brun.
'Tis much the better.
Bawdb.
If he be a Lord,
'Twill be the greater grace
Brun.
Thou art in the right.
Bawdb.
Why then behold that valiant man and Lord,
That for your sake will take a cudgelling,
For be assu'd when it is spread abroad
That you have dealt with mee, they'le give you out
For one of the nine Worthies.
Brun.
Out you pandar,
Why to beate thee is only exercise
For such as doe affect it, lose not time
In vaine replies, but doe it: come my sollace
Let us to bed, and our desires once quench'd
Weele there determine of Theodorets death
For he's the Engine us'd to ruine us;
Yet one worke more, Lecure, art thou assurde
The potion will worke,
Lecure.
My life upon it,
Brun.
Come my Protaldye, then glut mee with
Those best delights of man, that are deni'd
To her that does expect them, being a bride.
Act. 3.
Scoe. 1.
Enter Thierry and Ordella, as from bed.
Thier.
Sure I have drunke the blood of Elephants.
The teares of mandrake and the marble dew,
Mixt in my draught, have quencht my naturall heate,
And left no sparke of fire but in mine eyes,
With which I may behold my miseries:
Yee wretched flames which play upon my sight,
Turne inward, make mee all one peece, though earth.
My teares shall overwhelme you else too.
Ordella.
What moves my Lord to this strange sadnesse?
If any late discerned want in me,
Give cause to your repentance, care and duty
Shall find a painefull way to recompence.
Thier.
Are you yet frozen veines, feele you a breath,
Whose temperate heate would make the North starre reele,
Her icie pillars thaw'd, and do you not melt?
Draw neerer, yet neerer,
That from thy barren kisse thou maist confesse
[Page]I have not heate enough to make a blush.
Ordella.
Speake neerer to my understanding, like a husband,
Thier.
How should he speak the language of a husband,
Who wants the tongue and organs of his voice?
Ordella.
It is a phrase will part with the same ease
From you with that you now deliver.
Thier.
Bind not his eares up with so dull a charme
Who hath no other sence left, open; why should thy words
Find more restraint than thy free speaking actions,
Thy close imbraces and thy mid-night sighes
The silent orators to slow desire?
Ordella
Strive not to winne content from ignorance
Which must be lost in knowledge: heaven can witnesse
My farthest hope of good reacht at your pleasure,
VVhich seeing alone may in your looke bee read:
Adde not a doubtfull comment to a text
That in it selfe is direct and easie.
Thier.
Oh thou hast drunke the juice of hemlocke too,
Or did upbraided nature make this paire
To shew shee had not quite forgot lier first
Justly prais'd workemanship, the first chast couple
Before the want of joy, taught guilty sight
A way through shame and sorrow to delight:
Say, may we mixe as in their innocence
VVhen turtles kist, to confirme happinesse,
Not to beget it.
Ordella.
I know no bar.
Thier.
Should I beleeve thee, yet thy pulse beates woman,
And sayes the name of wife did promise thee
The blest reward of duty to thy mother,
VVho gave so often witnesse of her joy,
VVhen shee did boast thy likenesse to her Husband.
Ordella.
'Tis true, that to bring forth a second to your selfe,
VVas only worthy of my Virgin losse;
And should I prize you lesse unpattern'd Sir,
Then being exemplified, i'st not more honor
To be possessor of unequal'd vertue,
Then what is parallel'd? give me beleife,
The name of mother knowes no way of good,
More then the end in mee: who weds for lust
Is oft a widow; when I married you,
I lost the name of maide to gaine a title
Above the wish of change, which that part can
Only maintaine, is still the same in man,
His vertue and his calme society,
Which no gray haires can threaten to dissolve,
Nor wrinkles bury.
Thier.
Confine thy selfe to silence, lest thou take.
That part of reason from me is only left
To give perswasion to me, I am a man:
Or say thou hast never seene the rivers haste
With glad-some speed to meete the amomorous sea.
Ordella.
We are but to praise the coolenesse of their streames.
Thier.
Nor view'd the kids taught by their lustfull sires,
Pursue each other through the wanton lawnes,
And lik't the sport.
Ordella.
As it made way unto their envied rest
With weary knots binding their harmlesse eyes.
Thier.
Nor doe you know the reason why the Dove,
One of the paire your hands wont hourely seed,
So often clipt and kist her happy mate.
Ordella.
Unlesse it were to welcome his wisht sight,
VVhose absence onely gave her mourning voice.
Thierry.
And you could dove-like to a single object
Binde your loose spirits to one, nay such a one
VVhom only eyes and ears must flatter good,
Your surer sence made uselesse, my selfe, nay
As in my all of good already knowne.
Ordella.
Let proofe plead for mee, let me be mew'd up
VVhere never eye may reach mee but your owne;
And when I shall repent, but in my lookes, if sigh,
Thier.
Or shed a teare that's warme.
Ordella.
But in your sadnesse.
Thier.
Or when you heare the birds call for their mates.
Aske if it be St. Valentine, their coupling day.
Ordella.
If any thing may make a thought suspected
Of knowing any happinesse but you,
Divorce mee by the title of most falshood.
Thier.
Oh who would know a wife, that might have such a friend?
Posterity henceforth lose the name of blessing
And leave the earth inhabited to people heaven.
Enter Theodoret, Brunhalt, Martell, Protaldye.
Mart.
All happinesse to Thierry and Ordella.
Thier.
'Tis a desire but borrowed from me, my happinesse
Shall be the period of all good mens wishes,
VVhich friends, nay dying fathers shall bequeath,
And in my one give all: is there a duty
Belongs to any power of mine, or love
To any vertue I have right to? here, place it heare,
Ordellas name shall onely beare command,
Rule, title, soverainty.
Brun.
What passion swayes my son?
Thier.
O mother, she has doubled every good
The travaile of your blood made possible
To my glad being.
Prot.
He should have done
Little to her, he is so light harted;
Thier.
Brother, friends, if honor unto shame
If wealth to want in large the present sence,
My joyes are unbounded, insteed of question
Let it be envy, not bring a present
To the high offering of our mirth, banquets, and maskes;
Keepe waking our delights, mocking nights malice,
Whose darke brow would fright pleasure from us,
Our court be but one stange of Revells, and each ye
The sceane where our content moves.
Theod.
There shall want
Nothing to expresse our shares in your delight Sir.
Mart.
Till now I ne're repented the estate
Of widdower.
Thier.
Musique, why art thou so slow voycte? it staies thy presence
My Ordella, this chamber is a spheare
Too narrow for thy al-moving vertue.
Make way, free way I say;
Who must alone, her sexes want supply,
Had need to have a roome both large and high.
Mart.
This passion's above utterance.
Theod.
Nay credulity.
Exit all but Thierry, Brunhalt.
Brun.
Why sonne what meane you, are you a man?
Thier.
No mother I am no man, were I a man?
How could I be thus happy?
Brun.
How can a wife be author of this joy then?
Thier.
That being no man, I am married to no woman;
The best of men in full ability,
Can onely hope to satisfie a wife,
And for that hope ridiculous, I in my want
And such defective poverty, that to her bed
From my first cradell brought no strength but thought,
Have met a temperance beyond hers that rockt me,
Necessity being her bar; where this
Is so much sencelesse of my depriv'd fire,
She knowes it not a losse by her desire.
Brun.
It is beyond my admiration.
Thier,
Beyond your sexes faith,
The unripe virgins of our age to hear't
Will dreame themselves to women, and convert
The example to a miracle.
Brun.
Alas 'tis your defect moves my amazement,
But what ill can be seperate from ambition?
Cruell Theodoret.
Thierry.
What of my brother?
Brun.
That to his name your barrenesse adds rule;
Who loving the effect, would not be strange
In favouring the cause; looke on the profit,
And gaine will quickly point the mischiefe out.
Thier.
The name of father to what I possesse [Page] is shame and care.
Brun.
Were we begot to single happinesse
I grant you; but from such a wife, such virtue
To get an heire, what hermet would not finde
Deserving argument to breake his vow
Even in his age of chastity?
Thier.
You teach a deafe man language.
Brun.
The cause found out, the malady may cease,
Have you heard of one Forts?
Thier.
A learn'd Astronomer, great Magician,
Who lives hard by retir'd.
Brun.
Repaire to him, with the just houre and place
Of your nativity; fooles are amaz'd at fate,
Griefes but conceal'd are never desperate.
Thier.
You have timely wakn'd me, nor shall I sleepe
Without the satisfaction of his art
Exit Thierry.
Enter Lecure.
Brun.
Wisedome prepares you to'r, Lecure, met happily.
Lecure.
The ground answers your purpose, the conveniance
Being secure and easie, falling just
Behind the state set for Theodoret.
Brun.
'Tis well, your trust invites you to a second charge,
You know Lefortes cell.
Lecure.
Who constellated your faire birth
Brun.
Enough, I see thou knowst him, where's Bawdber?
Lecur.
I left him carefull of the project cast,
To raise Protaldies credit.
Brun.
A sore that must be plaster'd, in whose wound
Others shall find their graves, thinke themselves sound,
Your eare, and quickest apprehension.
Exeunt.
Enter Bawdber, and a servant.
Bawdb.
This man of war will advance.
Lecure.
His houres upon the stroake.
Bawdb.
Wind him backe as you favour my eares,
I have no noyse in my head, my braines have hitherto
Bin imploy'd in silent businesses.
Enter Devitry.
Lecure.
The gentleman is within your reach Sir.
Exit.
Bawdb
Give ground whilst I drill my wits to the encounter,
Devitry, I take it.
Devitry.
All that's left of him.
Bawdb.
Is there another parcell of you, if it be at pawne
I will gladly redeeme it to make you wholy mine.
Vitry
You seeke too hard a penyworth.
Bawdb.
You to ill to keepe such distance, your parts have been long knowne
To me, howsoever you please to forget acquaintance
Vitry.
I must confesse I have bin subject, to leawd company.
Bawdb.
Thankes for your good remembrance,
You have bin a souldier Devitry, and borne armes.
Vitry.
A couple of unprofitable ones, that have onely serv'd to get me a stomacke to my dinner.
Bawdb.
Much good may it doe you Sir.
Vitry.
You should have heard me say I had din'd first, I have built on an unwholsome ground, rais'd up a house before I knew a tenant, matcht to meere wearinesse, sought to find want and hunger.
Bawdb.
It is time you put up your sword, and runne away for meate sir, nay if I had not withdrawne ere now, I might have kept thee; fast with you: but since the way to thrive is never late, what is the neerest course to profit thinke you?
Vitry.
It may be your worship will say bawdry.
Bawdb.
True sence, bawdry.
Vitry.
Why is there five kinds of them, I never knew but one.
Bawdb.
Ile shew you a new way of prostitution, fall backe, further yet, further, there is fifty crownes, do but as much to Protaldye the Queenes favoret, they are doubled.
Vitry.
But thus much.
Bawdb.
Give him but an affront as he comes to the presence, and in his drawing make way like a true bawde to his valour, the son's thy owne; if you take a scratch in the [Page] arme or so, every drop of blood weighes downe a ducket.
Vitry.
After that rate, I and my friends would begger the kingdome. Sir you have made me blush to see my want, whose cure is such a cheape and easie purchase, this is male bawdery belike.
Enter Protaldy, a Lady, and Revellers.
Bawdb.
See, you shall not belong earning your wages, your worke's before your eyes.
Vitry.
Leave it to my handling, ile fall upon't instantly.
Bawdb.
What opinion will the managing of this affaire
Bring to my wisedome? my invention tickles
With apprehension on't:
Pro.
These are the joyes of marriage Lady,
VVhose fights are able to dissolve virginity.
Speake freely, do you not envy the brides felicity?
Lady.
How should I, being partner of't?
Protall.
VVhat you enjoy is but the banquets view,
The taste stands from your pallate; if he impart
By day so much of his content, thinke what night gave?
Vitry.
VVill you have a rellish of wit Lady?
Bawdb.
This is the man.
Lady.
If it be not deare Sir.
Vitry.
If you affect cheapnesse, how can you prize this sullied ware so much? mine is fresh, my owne, not retail'd.
Prot
You are sawcy firra.
Vitry.
The fitter to be in the dish with such dry stockfish as you are, how strike?
Bawdb.
Remember the condition as you looke for payment.
Vitry.
That boxe was left out of the bargaine.
Prot.
Helpe, helpe, helpe.
Bawdb.
Plague of the scriveners running hand,
VVhat a blow is this to my reputation?
Enter Thierry, Theodoret, Brunhalt, Ordella, Memberge, Martell.
Thier.
VVhat villaine dares this outrage?
Devitry.
Heare me Sir, this creature hir'd me with fifty crownes in hand, to let Protaldye have the better of mee at single rapier on a made quarrell; he mistaking the weapon, layes mee over the chops with his clubfist, for which I was bold to teach him the art of memory.
Omnes.
Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Theod.
Your Generall, mother, will display himselfe.
Spight of our peace I see.
Thier
Forbeare these civill jarres, fie Protaldy,
So open in your projects, avoyd our presence sirra.
Devi.
VVillingly, if you have any more wages to earne,
You see I can take paines.
Theod.
There's somewhat for thy labour,
More than was promis'd, ha, ha, ha.
Bawdb
Where could I wish my selfe now? in the Isle of dogs,
So I might scape scratching, for I see by her cats eyes
I shall bee claw'd fearefully.
Thier.
Wee'l heare no more on't,
soft musick
Musick drowne all sadnesse;
Command the Revellers in, at what a rate I doe purchase
My mothers absence to give my spleene full liberty.
Brun.
Speake not a thoughts delay, it names thy ruine,
Prot.
I had thought my life had borne more value with you.
Brun.
Thy losse carries mine with't, let that secure thee.
The vault is ready, and the doore conveyes roo't,
Falls just behind his chaire, the blow once given,
Thou art unseene.
Prot
I cannot feele more than I feare, ime sure.
withdraws
Brun.
Be gone, and let them laugh their owne destruction.
Thier:
You will adde unto her rage.
Theod.
Foot I shall burst unlesse I vent my selfe, ha, ha, ha.
Brun.
Me Sir, you never could
Have found a time to invite more wilingness
In my dispose to pleasure.
Memb.
Would you would please to make some other choise.
Revel.
'Tis a disgrace would dwell upon me Lady,
[Page]Should you refuse.
Memb.
Your reason conquers; my Grandmothers lookes
Have turn'd all ayre to earth in mee, they sit
Upon my heart like night charmes, black and heavy.
The Dance.
Thier.
You are too much libertine.
Theod.
The fortune of the foole perswades my laughter
More than his cowardice; was ever ratt
Tane by the taile thus? ha, ha, ha.
Thier.
Forbeare I say.
Prot.
No eye looks this way, I will winke and strike,
Behind the State
Lest I betray my selfe:
stubs Theodoret?
Theod.
Ha, did you not see one neere me?
Thier.
How neere you, why doe you look so pale brother?
Treason, treason.
Memb.
Oh my presage! Father.
Ordella.
Brother,
Mart.
Prince, noble Prince.
Thier.
Make the gates sure, search into every angle
And corner of the Court; oh my shame! mother,
Your sonne is slaine, Theodoret, noble Theodoret,
Here in my armes, too weake a sanctuary
'Gainst treachery and murder, say is the traytor taken?
1 Guard.
No man hath past the chamber on my life Sir.
Thier.
Set present fire unto the place, that all unseene
May perish in this mischiefe, who moves flow to't,
Shall adde unto the flame.
Brun.
What meane you? give mee your private hearing.
Thier.
Perswasion is a partner in the crime,
I will renounce my claime unto a mother,
If you make offer on't.
Brun.
Ere a torch can take flame, I will produce
The author of the fact.
Thier.
Withdraw but for your lights.
Memb.
O my too true suspition.
Exeunt Martell, Memberg.
Thier.
Speake, where's the engine to this horrid act?
Brun.
Here you doe behold her, upon whom make good
Your causelesse rage; the deed was done by my incitement,
Not yet repented.
Thier.
Whether did nature start, when you conceiv'd
A birth so unlike woman? say, what part
Did not consent to make a son of him,
Reserv'd it selfe within you to his ruine.
Brun.
Ha, ha, a son of mine! doe not dissever
Thy fathers dust, shaking his quiet urne,
To which my breath would send so foule an issue.
My son, thy brother?
Thier.
Was not Theodoret my brother, or is thy tongue
Confederate with thy heart, to speak and doe
Only things monstrous?
Brun.
Heare mee, and thou shalt make thine owne beliefe,
Thy still with sorrow mention'd, father liv'd
Three carefull yeares in hope of wished heires,
When I conceiv'd, being from his jealous feare,
Injoyn'd to quiet home, one fatall day:
Transported with my pleasure to the chase,
I forc't command, and in pursuit of game,
Fell from my horse, lost both my child and hopes.
Despaire which only in his love saw life
Worthy of being, from a gardners armes
Snatcht this unlucky brat, and call'd it mine,
When the next yeare repaid my losse with thee:
But in thy wrongs preserv'd my miserie,
Which that I might diminish, though not end,
My fighes and wet eies from thy fathers will,
Bequeath this largest part of his Dominions
Of France, unto thee, and only left
Austracia unto that changeling, whose life affords
Too much of ill 'gainst mee to prove my words,
And call him stranger.
Thier
Come, doe not weep, I must, nay doe beleeve you,
And in my fathers satisfaction count it
[Page]Merit, not wrong, or losse:
Brun.
You doe but flatter, there's anger yet flames
In your eyes.
Thier.
See, I will quench it, and confesse that you
Have suffer'd double travaile for me.
Brun.
You will not fire the house then?
Thier.
Rather reward the author, who gave cause
Of knowing such a secret, my oath and duty
Shall be assurance on't.
Brun.
Protaldye, rise good faithfull servant, heaven knowes
How hardly he was drawne to this attempt.
Enter Protaldye.
Thier.
Protaldye? he had a gardners fate i'le sweare
Tell by thy hand, Sir, we doe owe unto you for this service.
Brun.
Why lookest thou so dejected?
Enter Martell.
Prot.
I want a little shift Lady, nothing else.
Mart.
The fires are ready, please it your grace withdraw,
Whilst we performe your pleasure.
Thier.
Reserve them for the body; since he had the fate
To live and die a Prince, he shall not lose
The title in his funerall.
Exit.
Mart.
His fate to live a prince,
Thou old impiety, made up by lust and mischiefe,
Exeunt with the body of Theod.
Take up the body.
Enter Lecure, and a servant.
Lecure.
Doest thinke Lefortes sure enough?
Serva.
As bonds can make him, I have turn'd his eyes to the east; and left him gaping after the morning starre, his head is a meere Astrolobe, his eyes stand for the poles, the gag in his mouth being the coachman, his five teeth have the neerest resemblance to Charles Waine.
Lecure.
Thou hast cast a figure which shall raise thee, direct my haire a little; and in my likenesse to him reade a fortune suiting thy largest hopes.
Serva
You are so far 'bove likenesse you are the same,
If you love mirth, perswade him from himselfe.
'Tis but an Astronomer out of the way,
And lying will beare the better place for't
Lecure.
I have profitabler use in hand, hast to the Queene?
And tell her how you left me chang'd.
Exit Servant.
Who would not serve this vertuous active Queene?
She that loves mischiefe 'bove the man that does it,
And him above her pleasure, yet knowes no heaven else.
Enter Thierry.
Thier.
How well this loanes suits the art I seeke,
Discovering secret and succeeding fate,
Knowledge that puts all lower happinesse on,
With a remisse and carelesse hand,
Faire peace unto your meditations father.
Lecure.
The same to you, you bring Sir.
Thier.
Drawne by your much fam'd skill, I come to know
Whether the man who owes this character,
Shall ere have issue.
Lecure.
A resolution falling with most ease
Of any doubt you could have named, he is a Prince
Whose fortune you enquire.
Thier.
He is nobly borne.
Lecure.
He had a dukedome lately falne unto him
By one call'd brother, who has left a daughter.
Thier.
The question is of heirs, not lands.
Lecure.
Heirs, yes he shall have heires.
Thier.
Begotten of his body, why look'st thou pale?
Thou canst not suffer in his want.
Lecure
Nor thou, I neither can nor will
Give farther knowledge to thee.
Thier.
Thou must, I am the man my selfe,
Thy soveraigne, who must owe unto thy wisedome
In the concealing of my barren shame.
Lecure.
Your grace doth wrong your stars; if this be yours,
You may have children.
Thier.
Speake it againe.
Lecure.
You may have fruitfull issue.
Thier.
By whom? when? how?
Lecure.
It was the fatall meanes first strooke my blood
With the cold hand of wonder, when I read it
Printed upon you birth.
Thier.
Can there be any way unsmooth, has end
So faire and good?
Lecure.
Wee that behold the sad aspects of heaven,
Leading sence blinded, men feele griefe enough
To know, though not to speak their miseries.
Thier.
Sorrow must lost a name, where mine finds life;
If not in thee, at least ease paine with speed,
Which must know no cure else.
Lecure.
Then thus,
The first of females which your eye shall meete
Before the sun next rise, comming from out
The Temple of Diana, being slaine, you live
Father of many sonnes.
Thier.
Callst thou this sadnesse, can I beget a sonne
Deserving lesse then to give recompence
Unto so poore a losse? what e're thou art,
Rest peaceable blest creature, borne to bee
Mother of Princes, whose grave shall be more fruitfull
Then others marriage beds: me thinkes his art
Should give her forme and happy figure to mee,
I long to see my happinesse, he is gone,
As I remember hee named my brothers daughter,
Were it my mother, 'twere a gainfull death
Could give Ordella's vertue living breath.
Exeunt.
Act. 4.
Scoe. 1.
Enter Thierry and Martell.
Mart.
Your Grace is early stirring.
Mart.
How can he sleep,
Whose happinesse is laid up in an houre.
Hee knowes comes stealing toward him, O Martell!
I'st possible the longing bride, whose wishes
Outrunnes her feares, can on that day shee is married
Consume in slumbers, or his armes rust in ease,
That heares the charge, and sees the honor'd purchase
Ready to gild his valour? Mine is more
A power above these passions; this day France,
France that in want of issue withers with us;
And like an aged river runnes his head
Into forgotten wayes, againe I ransome,
And his faire course turne right: this day Thierry,
The sonne of France, whose manly powers like prisoners
Have bin tied up, and fetter'd, by one death
Give life to thousand ages; this day beauty
The envy of the world, pleasure the glory,
Content above the world, desire beyond it
Are made mine owne and usefull.
Mart.
Happy woman
That dies to doe these things.
Thier.
But ten times happier
That lives to doe the greater; O Martell,
The Gods have heard mee now, and those that scorn'd me
Mothers of many children, and blest fathers
That see their issues like the starres unnumber'd,
Their comfort more then them, shall in my praises
Now teach their infants songs; and tell their ages
From such a sonne of mine, or such a Queen,
That chast Ordella brings mee blessed marriage
The chaine that linkes two holy loves together
And in thee marriage, more then blest Ordella,
That comes so neere the sacrament it selfe,
The Priests doubt whether purer.
Mart.
Sir, y'are lost.
Thier.
I prethee let me be so.
Mart.
The day weares,
And those that have beene offering early prayers,
Are now retiring homeward.
Thier.
Stand and marke then.
Mart.
Is it the first must suffer.
Thier.
The first woman.
Mart.
What hand shall doe it Sir?
Thier.
This hand Martell,
For who lesse dare presume to give the gods
An incense of this offering?
Mart.
Would I were she,
For such away to die, and such a blessing
Can never crowne my parting.
Enter 2 men passing over.
Thier.
What are those?
Mart.
Men, men, Sir, men.
Thier.
The plagues of men light on vm,
They crosse my hopes like hares, who's that?
Enter a Priest.
Mart.
A Priest Sir.
Thierry.
Would he were gelt.
Mart.
May not these rascalls serve Sir,
Well hang'd and quarter'd?
Thierry.
No.
Mart.
Here comes a woman.
Enter Ordella, vail'd.
Thier.
Stand and behold her then.
Mart.
I thinke a faire one.
Thier.
Move not whilst I prepare her: may her peace
Like his whose innocence the gods are pleas'd with,
And offering at their altars, gives his soule
Far purer then those fires; pull heaven upon her,
You holy powers, no humane spot dwell in her,
No love of any thing but you and goodnesse,
Tie her to earth, feare be a stranger to her,
And all weake bloods affections, but thy hope
Let her bequeath to women: heare me heaven,
Give her a spirit masculine, and noble,
Fit for your selves to aske, and mee to offer.
O let her meete my blow, doate on her death;
And as a wanton vine bowes to the pruner,
That by his cutting off more may encrease,
So let her fall to raise me fruit; hale woman.
The happiest, and the best (if thy dull will
Do not abuse thy fortune) France ere found yet.
Ordella.
She is more then dull Sir, lesse and worse then woman,
That may inherit such an infinite
As you propound, a greatnesse so neare goodnesse;
And brings a will to rob her.
Thier.
Tell me this then,
Was there ere woman yet, or may be found,
That for faire same, unspotted memory,
For vertues sake, and onely for it selfe sake
Has, or dare make a story?
Ordella.
Many dead Sir,
Living I thinke as many.
Thier.
Say, the kingdome
May from a womans will receive a blessing,
The king and kingdome, not a private safety.
A generall blessing Lady.
Ordella.
A generall curse
Light on her heart denyes it.
Thier.
Full of honor;
And such examples as the former ages
Were but dim shadowes of, and empty figures.
Ordella.
You strangely stir me Sir, and were my weakenesse
In any other flesh but modest womans,
You should not aske more questions may I do it?
Thier.
You may, and which is more, you must.
Ordella.
I joy in't,
A bove a moderate gladnesse, Sir, you promise
It shall be honest.
Thier.
As ever time discover'd.
Ordella.
Let it be what it may then, what it dare,
I have a minde will hazard it.
Thier.
But harke yee,
What may that woman merit, makes this blessing!
Ordella.
Onely her duty Sir
Thier.
'Tis terrible.
Ordella.
'Tis so much the more noble.
Thier.
'Tis full of fearefull shaddowes.
Ordella.
So is sleepe Sir,
Or any thing that's meerely ours and mortall,
We were begotten gods else; but those feares
[Page]Feeling but once the fiers of nobler thoughts,
Fly like the shapes of clouds we forme to nothing
Thier.
Suppose it death.
Ordella.
I do.
Thier.
And endlesse parting
With all we can call ours, with all our sweetnesse,
With youth, strength, pleasure, people, time, nay reason:
For in the silent grave, no conversation,
No joyfull tread of friends, no voyce of lovers,
No carefull fathers councell, nothing's hard,
Nor nothing is, but all oblivion,
Dust and an endlesse darknesse; and dare you woman
Desire this place?
Ordella.
'Tis of all sleepes the sweetest,
Children begin it to us, strong men seeke it,
And kings from heigth of all their painted glories
Fall like spent exhaltations, to this center;
And those are fooles that feare it, or imagine
A few unhandsome pleasures, or lifes profits
Can recompence this place; and mad that staies it,
Till age blow out their lights, or rotten humors.
Bring them despers'd to the earth.
Thier.
Then you can suffer.
Ordella.
As willingly as say it.
Thier.
Martell, a wonder,
Here is a woman that dares die, yet tel me,
Are you a wife?
Ordella.
I am Sir.
Thier.
And have children,
She sighes and weepes.
Ordella.
O none Sir.
Thier.
Dare you venter
For a poore barren praise you ne're shall heare,
To part with these sweet hopes.
Ordella.
With all but Heaven;
And yet die full of children; he that reads me
When I am ashes, is my son in wishes,
And those chaste dames that keepe my memory,
Singing my yearely requiems, are my daughters.
Thier.
Then there is nothing wanting but my knowledge,
And what I must doe Lady.
Ordella.
You are the King Sir,
And what you doe i'le suffer, and that blessing
That you desire the Gods showre on the Kingdome.
Thier.
Thus much before I strike then, for I must kill you,
The Gods have will'd it so, they'r made the blessing
Must make France young againe, and mee a man,
Keepe up your strength still nobly.
Ordella.
Feare me not.
Thier.
And meet death like a measure.
Ordella.
I am stedfast.
Thier.
Thou shalt bee sainted woman, and thy tombe
Cut out in Cristall, pure and good as thou art;
And on it shall be graven every age,
Succeeding Peeres of France that rise by thy fall,
Tell thou liest there like old and fruitfull nature.
Darest thou behold thy happinesse?
Ordella.
I dare Sir.
Thier.
Ha?
Pulls off her vaile, letts fall his sword.
Mar.
O Sir, you must not doe it.
Thier.
No, I dare not.
There is an Angell keepes that paradice,
A fiery Angell friend; O vertue, vertue,
Ever and endlesse vertue.
Ordella.
Strike Sir, strike;
And if in my poore death faire France may merit,
Give me a thousand blowes, be killing mee
A thousand dayes.
Thier.
First let the earrh be barren,
And man no more remembred, rise Ordella,
The neerest to thy maker, and the purest
That ever dull flesh shewed us,— O my heart-strings.
Exit.
Mart.
I see you full of wonder, therefore noblest,
And truest amongst women, I will tell you
[Page]The end of this strange accident.
Ordella.
Amazement
Has so much wove upon my heart, that truly
I feele my selfe unfit to heare, O Sir,
My Lord has slighted me.
Mart.
O no sweet Lady.
Ordella.
Rob'd me of such a glory by his pitie
And most unprovident respect.
Mart.
Deare Lady,
It was not meant to you.
Ordella.
Else where the day is,
And houres distinguish time, time runnes to ages,
And ages end the world, I had been spoken.
Devi.
I'le tell you what it was, if but your patience
Will give me hearing.
Ordella.
If I have transgrest,
Forgive me Sir.
Mart.
Your noble Lord was counsell'd,
Grieving the barrennesse betweene you both,
And all the Kingdome with him, to seeke out
A man that knew the secrets of the Gods,
Hee went, found such a one, and had this answer,
That if hee woo'd have issue, on this morning,
For this houre was prefixt him, hee should kill
The first hee met being female, from the temple;
And then hee should have children, the mistake
Is now too perfect Lady.
Ordella.
Still 'tis I Sir,
For may this worke bee done by common women,
Durst any but my selfe that knew the blessing,
And felt the benefit, assume this thing
In any other, t'ad bin lost, and nothing,
A curse and not a blessing; I was figur'd;
And shall a litle fondnesse barre my purchase?
Mart.
Where should he then seeke children?
Ordella.
Where they are
In wombes ordain'd for issues, in those beauties
That blesse a marriage bed, and makes it proceed
With kisses that conceive, and fruitfull pleasures;
Mine like a grave, buries those loyall hopes,
And to a grave it covets.
Mart.
You are too good,
Too excellent, too honest; robbe not us
And those that shall hereafter seek example,
Of such inestimable worthies in woman,
Your Lord of such obedience, all of honor
In coveting a cruelty is not yours,
A will short of your wisedome; make not error
A tombe stone of your vertues, whose faire life
Deserves a constellation: your Lord dare not,
He cannot, ought not, must not run this hazard,
He makes a seperation nature shakes at,
The Gods deny, and everlasting justice
Shrinkes backe, and sheathes her sword at.
Ordella,
All's but talke Sir,
I find to what I am reserv'd, and needfull,
And though my Lords compassion makes me poore,
And leaves me in my best use, yet a strength
Above mine owne, or his dull fondnesse finds me,
The Gods have given it to mee.
Drawes a knife.
Mart.
Selfe destruction,
Now all good Angells blesse thee, O sweet Lady,
You are abus'd, this is a way to shame you,
And with you all that knowes you, all that loves you,
To ruine all you build, would you bee famous,
Is that your end?
Ordella.
I would be what I should be.
Mart.
Live and confirme the Gods then, live and be loaden
With more than olive beare, or fruitfull Autumn;
This way you kill your merit, kill your cause,
[Page]And him you would raise life to, where, or how
Got you these bloudy thoughts? what Devill durst
Looke on that Angell face, and tempt? doe you know
What 'tis to dye thus, how you strike the starres,
And all good things above? doe you feele
What followes a selfe blood, whether you venter,
And to what punishment? excellent Lady,
Be not thus cozen'd, doe not foole your self,
The Priest was never his owne sacrifice,
But he that thought his hell here.
Ordella.
I am counsell'd,
Mart.
And I am glad on't, lye I know you dare not.
Ordelld.
I never have done yet.
Mart.
Pray take my comfort,
Was this a soule to lose? two more such women
Would save their sexe; see, shee repents and prayes,
O heare her, heare her, if there bee a faith
Able to reach your mercies, she hath sent it.
Ordella.
Now good Martell confirme me.
Mart.
I will Lady,
And every houre advise you, for I doubt
Whether this plot bee heavens, or hells; your mother
And I will find it, if it be in mankind
To search the center of it: in the meane time
I'le give you out for dead, and by your selfe,
And shew the instrument, so shall I find
A joy that will betray her.
Ordella.
Doe what's fittest;
And I will follow you.
Mart.
Then ever live
Both able to ingrosse all love, and give.
Exeunt.
Enter Brunhalt, Protaldye.
Brun.
I am in labour
To be delivered of that burthenous project
I have so long gone with; ha, here's the mid-wife,
Or life, or death.
Enter Lecure.
Lecure.
If in the supposition
Of her death in whose life you die, yo [...] aske me,
I thinke you are safe.
Brun.
Is she dead?
Lecure.
I have us'd
All meanes to make her so, I saw him waiting
At the temple doore, and us'd such art within,
That only she of all her sexe, was first
Given up unto his fury.
Brun,
Which if love
Or feare made him forbeare to execute
The vengeance he determin'd, his fond pity
Shall draw it on himselfe, for were there left
Not any man but hee to serve my pleasures,
Or from mee to receive commands, which are
The joyes for which I love life, he should be
Remov'd, and I alone left to bee Queene
O're any part of goodnesse that's left in me.
Lecure.
If you are so resolv'd, I have provided
A meanes to ship him hence: looke upon this,
But touch it sparingly, for this once us'd.
Say but to dry a teare, will keepe the eye lyd
From closing, untill death performe that office.
Brun.
Giv't mee, I may have use of it, and on you
I'le make the first experiment: if one sigh
Or heavy looke beget the least suspition,
Childish compassion can thaw the ice
Of your so long congeal'd and flinty hardnesse.
Slight, goe on constant, or I Shall.
Prot.
Best Lady,
Wee have no faculties which are not yours.
Lecure.
Nor will bee any thing without you.
Brun.
Be so, and we will stand or fall together, for
Since wee, have gone so farre, that death must stay
The journey which we wish should never end,
And innocent, or guilty we must die,
When we doe so, let's know the reason why.
Enter Thierry, and Courtiers.
Lecure.
The King.
Thier.
We'le be alone.
Prot.
I would I had
A convoy too, to bring me safe off,
For rage although it bee allaid with sorrow,
Appeares so dreadfull in him, that I shake
To looke upon it.
Brun.
Coward, I will meet it,
And know from whence t'as birth: sonne, kingly Thierry.
Thier.
Is cheating growne so common among men,
And thrives so well here, that the Gods endeavour
To practise it above?
Brun.
Your mother.
Thier.
Ha! or are they onely carefull to revenge,
Not to reward? or when for your offences
We study satisfaction, must the cure
Be worse then the disease?
Brun.
Will you not heare me?
Thier.
To lose the ability to performe those duties
For which I entertain'd the name of husband,
Ask'd more then common sorrow; but t'impose
For the redresse of that defect, a torture
In marking her to death, for whom alone
I felt that weaknesse as a want, requires
More then the making the head bald? or falling
Thus flat upon the earth, or cursing that way,
Or praying this, oh such a sceane of griefe,
And so set downe, (the world the stage to act on)
May challenge a Tragedian better practis'd
Then I am to expresse it; for my cause
Of passion is so strong, and my performance
So weake, that though the part bee good, I feare
Th'ill acting of it, will defraud it of
The poore reward it may deserve, mens pity.
Brun.
I have given you way thus long, a King, and what
Is more, my sonne, and yet a slave to that
Which onely triumphs over cowards sorrow
For shame looke up.
Thier.
I'st you, looke downe on me;
And if that you are capable to receive it,
Let that returne to you, that have brought forth
One mark'd out only for it: what are these?
Come they upon your priviledge, to tread on
The tombe of my afflictions?
Prot.
No not wee Sir.
Thier.
How dare you then omit the ceremony
Due to the funerall of all my hopes,
Or come unto the marriage of my sorrowes,
But in such colours as may sort with them.
Prot.
Alas; we will weare any thing.
Brun.
This is madnesse,
Take but my counsell.
Thier.
Yours? Dare you againe
Though arm'd with the authority of a mother,
Attempt the donger that will fall on you
If such another sillable awake it?
Goe, and with yours be safe, I have such cause
Of griefe, nay more, to love it, that I will not
Have such as these be sharers in it.
Lecure.
Madam.
Prot.
Another time were better.
Brun.
Doe not stirre,
For I must bee resolv'd and will, be statues.
Enter Martell.
Thier.
I, thou art welcome, and upon my soule
Thou art an honest man; doe you see, he has teares
To lend to him whom prodigall expence
Of sorrow has made bankerout of such treasure,
Nay thou doest well.
Mart.
I would it might excuse.
[Page]The ill I bring along.
Thier.
Thou makest me smile
In the height of my calamities, as if
There could be the addition of an Atome
To the gyant body of my miseries.
But try, for I will heare thee; all sit downe, 'tis death
To any that shall dare to interrupt him
In looke, gesture or word.
Mart.
And such attention
As is due to the last, and the best story
That ever was deliver'd, will become you,
The griev'd Ordella, (for all other titles
But take away from that) having from me
Prompted by your last parting groane, enquir'd,
What drew it from you, and the cause soone learn'd:
For shee whom barbarisme could deny nothing,
With such prevailing earnestnesse desir'd it,
'Twas not in mee though it had beene my death,
To hide it from her; she I say, in whom
All was, that Athens, Rome, or warlike Sparta,
Have registred for good in their best women:
But nothing of their ill, knowing her selfe
Mark'd out, (I know not by what power, but sure
A cruell one) to dye, to give you children;
Having first with a setled countenance
Look'd up to heaven, and then upon her selfe,
(It being the next best object) and then smil'd,
As if her joy in death to doe you service,
Would break forth in despight of the much sorrow
Shee shew'd she had to leave you: and then taking
Mee by the hand, this hand which I must ever
Love better then I have done, since shee touch'd it,
Goe, said she, to my Lord, (and to goe to him
Is such a happinesse I must not hope for)
And tell him that hee too much priz'd a trifle
Made only worthy in his love, and her
Thankfull acceptance, for her sake to robbe
The Orphan Kingdome of such guardians, as
Must of necessitie descend from him;
And therefore in some part of recompence
Of his much love, and to shew to the world
That 'twas not her fault only, but her fate,
That did deny to let her be the mother
Of such most certaine blessings: yet for proofe,
She did not envy her, that happy her,
That is appointed to them, her quick end
Should make way for her; which no sooner spoke,
But in a moment this too ready engine
Made such a battery in the choisest castle
That ever nature made to defend life,
That strait it shooke, and sunke.
Thier.
Stay, dares any
Presume to shed a teare before me? or
Ascribe that worth unto themselves to merit
To doe so for her? I have done, now on.
Mart.
Falne thus, once more she smil'd, as if that death
For her had studied a new way to sever
The soule and body, without sence of paine;
And then tell him quoth shee what you have seene,
And with what willingnesse 'twas done: for which
My last request unto him is, that he
Would instantly make choyce of one (most happy
In being so chosen) to supply my place,
By whom if heaven blesse him with a daughter,
In my remembrance let it beare my name
Which said she di'd.
Thier.
I heare this, and yet live;
Heart art thou thunder proofe, wil nothing breake thee?
Shee's dead, and what her entertainment may be
In th'other world without me is uncertaine,
And dare I stay here unresolv'd?
Mart.
Oh Sir!
Brun.
Deare sonne.
Pret.
Great King.
Thier.
Unhand me, am I falne
[Page]So low, that I have lost the power to be
Disposer of my owne life?
Mart.
Be but pleas'd
To borrow so much time of sorrow, as
To call to mind her last request, for whom
(I must confesse a losse beyond expression)
You turne your hand upon your selfe, 'twas hers
And dying hers, that you should live and happy
In seeing little models of your selfe,
By matching with another, and will you
Leave any thing that shee desir'd ungranted?
And suffer such a life that was laid downe
For your sake only to be fruitlesse?
Thier.
Oh thou dost throw charmes upon me, against which
I cannot stop my eares, beare witnesse heaven
That not desire of life, nor love of pleasure
Nor any future comforts, but to give
Peace to her blessed spirit in satisfying
Her last demand, makes mee deferre our meeting,
Which in my choise, and suddaine choise shall bee
To all apparant,
Brun.
How? doe I remove one mischiefe
To draw upon my head a greater?
Thier.
Goe, thou only good man, to whom for her selfe
Goodnesse is deare, and prepare to interre it
In her that was; O my heart! my Ordella,
A monument worthy to be the casket
Of such a jewell.
Mart.
Your command that makes way
Vnto my absence is a welcome one,
For but your selfe there's nothing heere Martell
Can take delight to looke on; yet some comfort
Goes back with me, to her, who though she want it
Deserves all blessings.
Exit.
Brun.
So soone to forget
The losse of such a wife, beleeve it will
Be censur'd in the world.
Thier.
Pray you no more,
There is no argument you can use to crosse it,
But does increase in me such a suspition
I would not cherish,—who's that?
Enter Memberge.
Memb.
One, no guard
Can put back from accesse, whose tongue no threats
Nor praises can silence, a bold suitor and
For that which if you are your selfe, a King,
You were made so to grant it, Justice, Justice.
Thier.
With what assurance dare you hope for that
Which is deni'd to me? or how can I
Stand bound to be just, unto such as are
Beneath mee, that find none from those that are
Above me.
Memb.
There is justice, 'twere unfit
That any thing but vengeance should fall on him,
That by his giving way to more then murther,
For my deare fathers death was particide)
Makes it his owne.
Brun.
I charge you heare her not.
Memb.
Hell cannot stop just prayers from entring heaven,
I must and will be heard Sir; but remember
That he that by her plot fell, was your brother,
And the place where, your Palace, against all
Th'inviolable rites of Hospitality,
Your word, a Kings word, given up for his safety,
His innocence, his protection, and the Gods
Bound to revenge the impious breach of such
So great and facred bonds; and can you wonder,
(That in not punishing such a horrid murther
You did it) that heavens favour is gone from you?
Which never will returne untill his bloud
Be wash'd away in hers.
Brun.
Drag hence the wretch.
Thier.
Forbeare: with what variety
Of torments doe I meete? Oh thou hast open'd
[Page]A booke in which writ downe in bloudy letters,
My conscience finds that I am worthy of
More then I undergoe, but i'le begin
For my Ordella's sake, and for thine owne
To make lesse heavens great anger: thou hast lost
A father, I to thee am so; the hope
Of a good husband, in mee have one; nor
Be fearfull I am still no man, already
That weaknesse is gone from me.
Brun.
That it might
aside
Have ever growne inseparably upon thee,
What will you doe? Is such a thing as this
Worthy the lov'd Ordella's place, the daughter
Of a poore Gardiner?
Memb.
Your sonne.
Thier.
The power
To take away that lownesse is in me.
Brun.
Stay yet, for rather then thou shalt adde
Incest unto thy other sinnes, I will
With hazard of my owne life utter all
Theodoret was thy brother.
Thier.
You deni'd it,
Vpon your oath, nor will I now believe you,
Your Protean turnings cannot change my purpose.
Memb.
And for me, be assur'd the meanes to be.
Revenge on thee vile hag, admits no thought,
But what tends to it.
Brun.
Is it come to that?
Then have at the last refuge; art thou growne
Insensible in ill, that thou goest on
Without the least compunction? there, take that
To witnesse that thou hadst a mother, which
Foresaw thy cause of griefe, and sad repentance,
That so soone after blest Ordella's death
Without a teare thou canst imbrace another,
Forgetfull man.
Thier.
Mine eyes when she is nam'd
Connot forget their tribute, and your gift
Is not unusefull now
Lecure.
He's past all cure, that onely touch is death.
Thier.
This night i'le keep it,
To morrow I will send it you, and full of my affliction.
Exit Thierry.
Brun.
Is the poyson mortall?
Lecure.
Above the helpe of physick.
Brun.
To my wish,
Now for our owne security, you Protaldye
Shall this night post towards Austracia,
With letters to Theodorets bastard sonne,
In which wee will make knowne what for his rising
We have done to Thierry: no deniall,
Nor no excuse in such acts must bee though of,
Which all dislike, and all againe commend
When they are brought unto a happy end
Exeunt.
Act. 5.
Scoe. 3.
Enter Devitry, and 4 Souldiers.
Devitry.
No war, no money, no Master; banish't the Court, not trusted in the City, whipt out of the countrey, in what a triangle runnes our misery: let mee heare which of you has the best voice to beg in, for other hopes or fortunes I see you have not; be not nice, nature provided you with tones for the purpose, the peoples charity was your heritage, and I would see which of you deserves his birth-right.
Omnes.
Wee understand you not Captaine.
Devit.
You see this cardicue, the last and the only quintessence of 50 crownes, distill'd in the lembicke of your gardage, of which happy piece thou shalt be treasurer: now he that can soonest perswade him to part with't, enjoyes it, possesses it, and with it, mee and my future countenance.
1.
If they want art to perswade it, I'le keepe it my selfe.
Devit.
So you be not a partiall judge in your owne cause, you shall.
Omnes.
A match.
2.
I'le begin to you, brave Sir; be proud to make him happy by your liberality, whose tongue vouchsafes now to petition, was never heard before lesse then to command. I [Page] am a souldier by profession, a gentleman by birth, and an officer by place, whose poverty blushes to be the cause that so high a vertue should descend to the pitie of your charitie.
1.
In any case keep your high stile, it is not charity to shame any man, much lesse a vertue of your eminence, wherefore preserve your worth, and i'le preserve my money.
3.
You perswade? you are shallow, give way to merit: ah by the bread of good man, thou hast a bonny countenance and a blith, promising mickle good to a sicker wombe, that has trod a long and a soare ground to meet with friends that will owe much to thy reverence, when they shall heare of thy curtesie to their wandring countreyman.
1.
You that will use your friends so hardly to bring them in debt Sir, will deserve worse of a stranger, wherefore pead on, pead on I say.
4.
It is the welch must do't I see, comrade man of urship, St. Tavy be her patron, the Gods of the mountaines keepe her cow and her cupboard, may she never want the green of the leeke and the fat of the onion, if shee part with her bounties to him that is a great deale away from her cozines, and has too big suites in law to recover her heritage.
1.
Pardon me Sir, I will have nothing to doe with your suites, it comes within the statute of maintenance: home to your cozines, and sow garlick and hemp-seed, the one will stop your hunger, the other end your suites, gammawash comrade, gammawash.
4.
Foot he'le hoord all for himselfe.
Vitry.
Yes, let him; now comes my turne, i'le see if he can answer mee: save you Sir, they say you have that I want, money.
1.
And that you are like to want, for ought I perceive yet.
Vitry.
Stand, deliver.
1.
Foot what meane you, you will not rob the Exchequer?
Vitry.
Doe you prate?
1.
Hold, hold, here Captaine.
2.
Why I could have done this before you.
3.
And I.
4.
And I.
Vitry.
You have done this, brave man he proud to make him happy, by the bread of God man thou hast a bonny countenance, comrade man of u [...]ship, St. Tavy be her patron, cut upon you, you uncurried colts, walking cans that have no souls in you, but a little rosin to keepe your ribs sweet, and hold in liquor.
Omnes.
Why, what would you have us to doe Captaine?
Devitry.
Beg, beg, and keepe Constables waking, weare out stocks and whipcord, mander for buttermilke, dye of the jaundice, yet have the cure about you, lice, large lice, begot of your owne dust, and the heate of the brick-kills, may you starve, and feare of the gallowes, which is a gentle consumption to't, only preferre it, or may you fall upon your feare, and be hanged for selling those purses to keepe you from famine whose monies my valour empties, and be cast without other evidence; here is my fort, my castle of defence, who comes by shall pay me tolle, the first purse is your mittimus slaves.
2.
The purse, foot we'le share in the money Captaine, if any come within a furlong of our fingers.
4.
Did you doubt but wee could steale as well as your selfe, did not I speake welch?
3.
We are theeves from our cradles, an will dye so.
Vitry.
Then you will not beg againe.
Omnes?
Yes, as you did, stand, and deliver.
2.
Harke, here comes handsell, 'tis a trade quickly set up, and as soone cast downe.
Vitry.
Have goodnesse in your minds varlets, and to't like men; he that has more money than wee, cannet bee our friend, and I hope there is no law for spoyling the enemie.
3.
You need not instruct us farther, your example pleads enough.
Devitry.
Disperse your selves, and as their company is, fall on.
2.
Come, there are a band of them, i'le charge single.
Exit souldiers.
Enter Protaldye.
Prot.
'Tis wonderfull dark, I have lost my man, and dare not call for him, lest I should have more followers then I would pay wages to; what throwes am I in, in this travaile? these be honourable adventure; had I that honest blood in my veines againe Queene, that your feats and these frights have drain'd from me, honour should pull hard ere it drew me into these brakes.
Devitry.
Who goes there?
Prot.
Hey ho, here's a pang of preferment.
Devi.
Hart, who goes there?
Prot.
Hee that has no heart to your acquaintance, what shall I doe with my jewels and my letter, my cod-peece, that's too loose, good, my boots, who ist that spoke to mee? here's a friend.
Devit.
We shall find that presently, stand, as you love your safety stand.
Prot.
That unlucky word of standing has brought me to all this, hold, or I shall never stand you.
Devitry.
I should know that voice, deliver.
Enter Souldiers.
Prot.
All that I have is at your service Gentlemen, and much good may it doe you.
Devitry.
Zones downe with him, doe you prate?
Prot.
Keepe your first word as you are Gentlemen, and let me stand, alas what doe you meane?
2.
To tye you to us Sir, bind you in the knot of friendship.
Prot.
Alas Sir, all the physick in Europe cannot bind me.
Devit.
You should have jewels about you, stones, precious stones.
1.
Captaine away, there's company within hearing, if you stay longer wee are surpriz'd.
Devitry.
Let the Devill come, i'le pillage this frigot a little better yet.
2.
Foot we are lost, they are upon us.
Devitry.
Ha, upon us, make the least noise, 'tis thy parting gaspe.
3.
Which way shall we make Sir?
Devitry.
Every man his owne; doe you heare, onely bind me before you goe, and when the companie's past, make to this place againe, this karvell should have better ladine in him, you are slow, why doe you not tye harder?
1.
You are sure enough I warrant you Sir.
Devitry.
Darknesse befriend you, away.
Exit souldiers.
Prot.
What tyrants have I met with? they leave me alone in the darke, yet would not have me cry. I shall grow wondrous melancholy if I stay long here without company; I was wont to get a nap with saying my prayers, i'le see if they will worke upon me now; but then if I should talk in my sleep, and they heare me, they would make a Recorder of my windpipe, slit my throate: heaven bee prais'd, I heare some noise, it may bee new purchase, and then I shall have fellowes.
Devitry.
They are gone past hearing, now to taske Devitry, helpe, helpe, as you are men helpe, some charitable hand, relieve a poore distressed miserable wretch; theeves, wicked theeves have rob'd me, bound me.
Prot.
Foot would they had gag'd you too, your noise will betray us, and fetch them againe.
Devit.
What blessed tongue spake to me, where, where are you Sir?
Prot.
A plague of your bawling throate, we are well enough, if you have the grace to be thankfull for't, doe but snore to mee, and 'tis as much as I desire, to passe away time with till morning, then talke as loud as you please Sir, I am bound not to stir, therefore lie still and snore I say.
Devit.
Then you have met with theeves too I see.
Prot.
And desire to meet with no more of them.
Devit.
Alas what can wee suffer more? they are far enough by this time; have they not all, all that we have Sir?
Prot.
No by my faith have they not Sir; I gave them one trick to boote for their learning, my bootes Sir, my bootes, I have sav'd my stock, and my jewels in them, and therefore desire to heare no more of them.
Devit.
Now blessing on your wit Sir, what a dull slave was I, dreampt not of your conveyance? helpe to unbidd me Sir, and [Page] i'le undoe you, my life for yours no worse theefe than my selfe meetes you againe this night.
Prot.
Reach me thy hands.
Devit.
Here Sir, here, I could beate my braines out, that could not thinke of bootes, bootes Sir, wide topt boots, I shall love them the better whilst I live; but are you sure your jewels are here Sir?
Prot.
Sure sayst thou? ha, ha, ha.
Devit.
So ho, illo ho.
Within souldiers.
Here Captaine, here.
Prot.
Foote what doe you meane Sir?
Enter Souldiers.
Devit.
A trick to boote, say you; here you dull slaves, purchase, purchase the soule of the rock, diamonds, sparkling diamonds.
Prot.
I am betraid, lost, past recovery lost, as you are men.
Devit,
Nay Rooke, since you will be prating, wee'l share your carion with you, have you any other conveyance now Sir?
1.
Foot here are letters, epistles, familiar epistles, wee'l see what treasure is in them, they are seal'd sure,
Pro,
Gentlemen, as you are gentlemen spare my letters, and take all willingly, all: i'le give you a release, a generall release, and meete you here too morrow with as much more.
Devit.
Nay, since you have your trickes, and your conveyances, wee will not leave a wrinckle of you unsearcht.
Prot.
Harke, there comes company, you will be betraid, as you love your safeties beat out my braines, I shall betray you else.
Devitry.
Treason, unheard of treason monstrous, monstrous villanies.
Prot.
I confesse my selfe a traytor, shew your selves good subjects, and hang mee up for't.
1.
If it be treason, the discovery will get our pardon Captaine.
Devit.
Would wee were all lost, hang'd, quarter'd to save this one, one innocent Prince; Thierry's poyson'd, by his mother poyson'd, the Mistris to this stallion, who by that poyson ne're shall sleep againe.
2
Foot let us mince him by piecemeale, till he eate himselfe up.
3.
Let us dig out his heart with needles, and halfe broile him, like a mussell.
Prot.
Such another and I prevent you, my blood's setled already.
Devit.
Here's that shall remove it, toade, viper, drag him unto Martell, unnaturall parricide, cruell, bloody woman.
Omnes.
On you dogfish, leech, caterpiller.
Deuit.
A longer sight of him will make my rage turne pitie, and with his suddaine end prevent revenge and torture, wicked, wicked Brunhalt.
Exit.
Enter Bawdber, and 3. Courtiers.
1.
Not sleep at all, no meanes.
2.
No art can doe it.
Bawdb.
I will assure you hee can sleep no more
Then a hooded hawke, a centinell to him,
Or one of the City Constables are tops.
3.
How came he so?
Bawdb.
They are too wise that dare know,
Somethings amisse, heaven helpe all.
1.
What cures has he?
Bawdb.
Armies of those wee call Physicians, some with glisters,
Some with lettice caps, some posset drinkes some pills,
Twenty consulting here about a drench,
As many here to blood him;
Then comes a Don of Spaine, and he prescribes
More cooling opium then would kill a turk,
Or quench a whore i'th dogdayes; after him
A wife Italian, and he cries, tie unto him
A woman of fourescore, whose bones are marble,
Whose blond snow water, not so much heate about her
As may conceive a prayer: after him
An English Doctor, with a bunch of pot hearbes,
And he cries out Endiffe and suckery,
With a few mallow rootes and buttermilke,
And talkes of oyle made of a Churchmans charity,
Yet still he wakes.
1.
But your good honour
Has a prayer in store if all should faile.
Bawdb.
I could have prayed, and handsomely,
But age and an ill memory.
[...]
[...]
3.
Has spoll'd your primmer.
Bawdb.
Yet if there be a man of faith i'th Court,
An can pray for a pension.
Enter Thierry on a bed, with Doctors and Attendants.
2.
Here's the King Sir,
And those that will pray without pay.
Bawdb.
Then pray for me too.
1. Doct.
How does your Grace feele your selfe now?
Thier.
What's that?
1. Doct.
Nothing at all Sir, but your fancy.
Thier.
Tell me,
Can ever these eyes more shut up in slumbers,
Assure my soule there is sleepe? is there night
And rest for humane labours? doe not you
And all the world as I doe, out-stare time,
And live like funerall lampes never extinguisht?
Is there a grave, and doe not flatter me,
Nor feare to tell mee truth; and in that grave
Is there a hope I shall sleepe, can I die,
Are not my miseries immortall? oh
The happines of him that drinkes his water
After his weary day, and sleepes for ever,
Why doe you crucifie mee thus with faces,
And gaping strangely upon one another,
When shall I rest?
2. Doct.
O Sir be patient.
Thier.
Am I not patient? have I not endur'd
More then a maingy dog among your dosses?
Am I not now your patient? ye can make
Unwholsome fooles sleepe for a guarded foot-cloth,
Whores for a hot sinne offering; yet I must crave
That feede ye, and protect ye, and proclame ye,
Because my power is farre above your searching,
Are my diseases so? can ye cure none
But those of equall ignorance, dare yee kill me?
1. Doct.
We doe beseech your grace bee more reclaim'd,
This talke doth but distemper you.
Thier.
Well, I will die
In spight of all your potions; one of you sleepe,
Lie downe and sleep here, that I may behold
What blessed rest it is my eyes are rob'd of:
See, hee can sleepe, sleep any where, sleep now,
When hee that wakes for him can never slumber,
I'st not a dainty ease?
2. Doct.
Your Grace shall feele it.
Thier.
O never I, never, the eyes of heaven
See but their certaine motions, and then sleepe,
The rages of the Ocean have their slumbers,
And quiet silver calmes; each violence
Crownes in his end a peace, but my fixt fires
Shall never, never set, who's that?
Enter Martell, Brunhalt, Devitry, Souldiers.
Mart.
No woman,
Mother of mischiefe, no the day shall die first,
And all good things live in a worse then thou art,
Ere thou shalt sleepe, dost thou see him?
Brun.
Yes, and curse him,
And all that love him foole, and all live by him.
Mart.
Why art thou such a monster?
Brun.
Why art thou
So tame a knave to aske me?
Mart.
Hope of hell,
By this faire holy light, and all his wrongs
Which are above thy yeares, almost thy [...]
Thou shalt not rest, not feele more what is pity,
Know nothing necessary, meet no society.
But what shall curse and crucifie thee, feele in thy selfe
Nothing but what thou art, bane and bad conscience,
Till this man rest; but for whose reverence
Because thou art his mother, I would say
Whore, this shall bee, doe ye nod? i'le waken ye
[Page]With my swords point.
Brun.
I wish no more of heaven,
Nor hope no more, but a sufficient anger
To torture thee.
Mart.
See, she that makes you see Sir
And to your misery still see your mother,
The mother of your woes Sir, of your waking,
The mother of your peoples cries and curses,
Your murdering mother, your malicious mother.
Thier.
Physicians, halfe my state to sleepe an houre now;
Is it so mother?
Brun.
Yes it is so sonne;
And were it yet againe to doe, it should be.
Mart.
She nods againe, swing her.
Thier.
But mother,
For yet I love that reverence, and to death
Dare not forget you have been so; was this,
This endlesse miserie, this curelesse malice,
This snatching from mee all my youth together,
All that you made mee for, and happy mothers
Crown'd with eternall time are proud to finish,
Done by your will?
Brun.
It was, and by that will.
Thier.
O mother, doe not lose your name, forget not
The touch of nature in you, tendernes
'Tis all the soule of woman, all the sweetnes;
Forget not I beseech you what are children,
Nor how you have gron'd for them, to what love
They are borne inheritors, with what care kept,
And as they rise to ripenesse still remember
How they impe out your age; and [...] time calls you,
That as an Autumne flower you fall, forget not
How round about your hearse they hang like penons.
Brun.
Holy foole,
Whose patience to prevent my wrongs has kill'd thee,
Preach not to me of punishments or feares,
Or what I ought to be, but what I am,
A woman in her liberall will defeated,
In all her greatnes crost, in pleasures blasted,
My angers have beene laught at, my ends slighted,
And all those glories that had crown'd my fortunes,
Suffer'd by blasted vertue to be scatter'd,
I am the fruitfull mother of these angers,
And what such have done, reade, and know thy ruine.
Thier.
Heaven forgive you.
Mart.
She tels you true, for millions of her mischiefes
Are now apparent, Protaldye wee have taken
An equall agent with her, to whose care
After the damn'd defeat on you, she trusted
Enter Messenger.
The bringing in of Leonor the bastard
Sonne to your murder'd brother; her physitian
By this time is attacht to that damn'd devill.
Messen.
'Tis like hee will bee so, for ere we came,
Fearing an equall justice for his mischiefes,
He drench't himselfe.
Brun.
He did like one of mine then.
Thier.
Must I still see these miseries, no night
To hide me from their horrors, that Protaldy
See justice fall upon.
Brun.
Now I could sleepe too.
Enter Ordella
Mart.
Ile give you yet more poppy, bring the Lady
And heaven in her embraces; gives him quiet
Madam, unvaile your selfe.
Ordella.
I doe forgive you,
And though you sought my blood, yet ile pray for you,
Brun.
Art thou alive?
Mart.
Now could you sleepe.
Brun.
For ever.
Mart.
Go carry her without wink of sleepe, or quiet,
Where her strong knave Protaldy's broke oth wheele,
And let his cryes & roares be musick toner,
I mean to waken her.
Thier.
Do her no wrong.
Mart.
Nor right as you love justice.
Brun.
I will thinke,
And if there be new curses in old nature,
I have a soule dare send them.
Mart.
Keepe her waking.
Exit Brunhalt.
Thier.
What's that appeares so sweetly? their's that face.
Mart.
Be moderate Lady.
Their.
That angels face.
Mart.
Go neraer.
Thier.
Martell, I cannot last long, see the soule,
I see it perfectly of my Ordella,
The heavenly figure of her sweetnesse there,
Forgive mee Gods, it comes, divinest substance,
Kneele, kneele, kneele every one, Saint of thy sexe,
If it be for my cruelty thou comest,
Do ye see her hoe?
Mart.
Yes Sir, and you shall know her.
Thier,
Downe, downe againe, to bee reveng'd for bloud,
Sweet spirit I am ready, she smiles on me,
O blessed signe of peace.
Mart.
Goe neerer Lady.
Ordella.
I come to make you happy
Thier.
Heare you that Sir?
She comes to crowne my soule away, get sacrifice,
Whil'st I with holy honours.
Mart.
Shee's alive sir.
Thier.
In everlasting life I know it friend,
O happy, happy soule.
Ordella.
Alas I live Sir
A mortall woman still.
Thier.
Can spirits weepe too?
Mart.
Shee's no spirit Sir, pray kisse her; Lady,
Be very gentle to him.
Thier.
Stay, she is warme,
And by my life the same lips tell me brightnesse,
Are you the same Ordella still?
Mart.
The same Sir.
Whom heavens and my good Angell staid from ruine.
Thier.
Kisse me againe.
Ordella.
The same still, still your servant.
Thier.
'Tis she, I know her now Martell; sit downe sweet,
O blest and happiest woman, a dead slumber
Begins to creep upon me, O my jewell!
Enter Messenger and Memberge.
Ordella,
O sleepe my Lord.
Thier.
My joyes are too much for me.
Messen.
Brunhalt impatient of her constraint to fee
Protaldye tortur'd, has chokt her selfe.
Mort.
No more, her sinnes goe with her.
Thier.
Love I must die, I faint, close up my glasses.
1. Doct.
The Queen faints too, and deadly.
Thier.
One dying kisse.
Ordella.
My last Sir, and my dearest, and now
Close my eyes too.
Thier.
Thou perfect woman,
Martell, the Kingdome's yours, take Memberge to you,
And keep my line alive; nay weep not Lady,
Take me, I goe.
Ordella.
Take mee too, farewell honour.
Dies both.
2. Doct.
They are gone for ever.
Mart.
The peace of happy soules goe after them,
Beare them to their last beds, whilst I study
A tombe to speake their loves; whilst old time lasteth,
I am your King in sorrowes.
Omnes.
We your subjects.
Mart.
Devitry, for your service, bee neere us,
Whip out these instruments of this mad mother
From Court, and all good people; and because
She was borne noble, let that title find her
A private grave, but neither tongue nor honour:
And now lead on, they that shall read this story,
Shall find that vertue lives in good, not glory.
Exeunt Omnes.
FINIS