THE MAGIC PICTURE, A PLAY.
[ALTERED FROM MASSINGER.]
BY THE REV. H. BATE.
—Beware of JEALOUSY!
It is a green-ey'd Monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on!—
SHAKESPEAR.
LONDON: Printed for T. and J. EGERTON, Charing-cross; T. DAVIES, Russell-street, Covent-garden; KEARSLEY, Fleet-street; E. MACKLEW, Haymarket; and R. BALDWIN, Paternoster-row, 1783. PRICE ONE SHILLING AND SIXPENCE.
DEDICATION. TO JOHN STRUTT, ESQ. MEMBER OF PARLIAMENT FOR MALDON.
DEAR SIR,
MY admiration of your unfeigned patriotism, was not excited, but confirmed by that singular, and manly instance, which made you revered by all, who could feel for the tarnished glory of their country!—To that public virtue in the individual I esteem, this Play is disinterestedly inscribed.—
I am, Sir, With great truth and regard, Your sincere, and Obedient servant
H. BATE.
BRADWELL-LODGE,
Nov:
13
th,
1783.
ADVERTISEMENT.
TO prepare MASSINGER'S Tragi-Comedy, THE PICTURE, for a modern entertainment, proved a more arduous task than was at first conceived. After giving a different turn to the drama, by making the changes of the Picture, the effects of
Eugenius
's jealousy, instead of the magic art of
Baptista,
and expunging the gross indelicacies which overran the play, it was found that most of the characters required a little fresh modelling to complete the design of the present undertaking. Hence the necessity of new-writing no inconsiderable part of the dialogue, in imitation of the old Dramatist. Though enamoured with the beauties of the antique structure, the Alterer set about its reparation with the utmost dissidence, fearing, like an unskilful architect, he might destroy those venerable features he could not improve! What has been his success, the public decision must determine.
The same kind of irregular and broken measure, through necessity still prevails, except where the language could be reduced to the heroic verse without impairing the spirit of the dialogue.
As to the
unities,
—being so totally disregarded by MASSINGER himself, no use could possibly be made of them in the present alteration.
The performance of the MAGIC PICTURE was every thing that an Author could expect, or wish for. The friendship and liberality of Mr. HARRIS were zealously exerted on the occasion. Mr. SHIELD aided it with his harmonic powers; and every performer, by a well sustained character, united in it's support: but Miss YOUNGE'S SOPHIA was too striking a representation not to demand a particular acknowledgment.—To this fortunate combination of talents, THE MAGIC PICTURE chiefly stands indebted for the very flattering reception with which it has been honored!
London,
Nov.
17, 1783.
PROLOGUE,
Spoken by Mr. AICKIN, in the Character of the Ghost of MASSINGER.
WRITTEN BY W. PEARCE, ESQ.
[A Bell tolls.]
REGARDLESS of yon bell, which strikes mine ear,
I, troubled shade of
Massinger,
appear!—
[Ghost rises.
What frenzy cou'd impel the daring thought,
To seize the PIECE my lab'ring fancy wrought?
The PICTURE glowing with selected
dies?
—
O 'tis a deed to make a
Spirit
rise!
But why shou'd I meet favor from an age,
That martyrs even
Shakespear
in its rage?
How late had princely
Hamlet
cause to rave!—
Depriv'd of clowns to dig
Ophelia's
grave!
Where was the
skull,
whose fate remembrance wept?
And where the turf, on which poor
Yorick
slept?
By temp'rance sooth'd, each murmur here shall end:
'Tis dang'rous with a
Gownsman
to contend;—
One, charter'd over spirits giv'n to riot,
Whose pow'r can lay me in the
Red-sea
quiet!
For now I'm quite bereft of Magic arms;
And what could
Merlin
do without his charms!
The Sorc'rers art is lost—And yet this age
Exceeds the
feats
of Royal James's
Demonologia, a treatise written by James the First.
page!
He
wrote of wizzards visiting the moon;—
But what are
broomsticks
to an
air balloon!
Not all the scenes, describ'd by
Tasso's
verse,
Where Daemons met, their rituals to rehearse,
Could match the horrors of that crimson day,
When ELLIOT'S
machinations
were at play!
And the
Enchanter,
CURTIS, whirl'd amain,
By
spells
of fire, the batteries of Spain!
But soft!—The brazen voice of War is mute;
And sounds of Peace are heard in each salute!
View
me,
then, as an herald of her way;
And in this wreath, the
olive
crown survey!
Bend with obedience to her soft'ning strains;
Nor arm against poor
Massinger's
remains!
Dramatis Personae.
EUGENIUS
Mr. WROUGHTON.
LADISLAUS
Mr. WHITFIELD.
EUBULUS
Mr. CLARKE.
BAPTISTA
Mr. HULL.
FERDINAND
Mr. DAVIES.
UBALDO
Mr. EDWIN.
RICARDO
Mr. WILSON.
HILLARIO
Mr. QUICK.
HONORIA
Mrs. BATES.
CORISCA
Mrs. WILSON.
ACANTHE
Miss PLATT.
SOPHIA
Miss YOUNGE.
COURTIERS, MASQUES, RUFFIANS, &c.
THE MAGIC PICTURE.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
The Curtain rising, discovers
HILLARIO
asleep at the foot of an old Oak.
Enter
CORISCA.
HILLARIO! arise, I say!
Nor any longer let the laughing sun
Imprint a burning shame upon thy forehead.
[HILLARIO
rises.
Look, if you are a man, and see their tender parting:
What sighs and countless kisses they've exchang'd,
And full as quick as my poor heart repeats 'em.
You should be let blood Corisca!
Love's raging fever is abroad, my girl:
Let's feel thy pulse! one, two, three, four!
Ay, galloping like mad, as I suspected!
Why, thou hast all the symptoms of the malady!
[Placing his hand on his forehead.
Count there, my busy Doctor, and you'll find
The pulse of folly wildly beat! for shame!
Thou wert not wont, Hillario, to be blind:
I marvel, would you prosper in the world,
That you your betters do not imitate.
[
Pointing behind to
EUGENIUS
and
SOPHIA.
Imitation! 'tis but a scurvy business at the best,
And in kissing it savours still more vilely,
Lacking the spirit that should keep it warm.
Peace, they approach!
Mute as a pickled sturgeon.
Enter
EUGENIUS
(in a warlike habit) and
SOPHIA.
Since we must part, my love, farther to pass
Is not alone unwise, but even dangerous;
For on yon frontier height, the Turkish camp
Extends 'twixt us and the Hungarian line:
Be now discreet as ever, and pr'ythee wed
Thy understanding to thy constant patience!
You put it to the utmost trial now.
[Weeping.
Nay, no melting;
For the necessity that thus divides us,
Full oft have we recounted, and the cause
Wash'd with our blended tears.
If blest the hour that ratified our union,
How can Eugenius leave me?
Not as some think, for mere desire of fame,
Or to be cry'd up by the public voice
For a brave soldier, do I appear in arms:
Such airy humours strike not me: Alas!
Too well thou know'st, with what a scanty hand
Fortune has dealt out our demeans; 'tis she
Enjoins it.
In you alone, my lord,
I've all abundance!
In your own language I would answer you,
For thou hast been a right obedient wife:
And to my power (tho' short of your desert)
I hope I have not fail'd in th' indulgent husband.
We have long enjoy'd the sweets of love;
Yet, my Sophia,
We must not live such dotards in our pleasures,
As still to hug them to a certain loss.
Have you in me
Found any sign of discontent, my lord?
No my Sophia,
Nor shalt thou e'er have reason to repent
Thy constant course in goodness, if heav'n smile
Upon my honest undertakings. 'Tis for thee
That I turn soldier, and cheerfully embark
Upon this sea of action, there to trade
For rich materials; nobly to adorn
Thy lovely person; and to th' admiring world
Display it in full lustre. Oft I've blush'd
That other ladies, inferior ev'n in beauty
And outward form, but in the harmony
Of the soul's ravishing music not to be nam'd
With thee, in splendour should outshine thee,
While you, devoid of these, past unregarded.
If I'm so rich in your opinion, why for me
Would you additions borrow?
Why? Should I not be justly censured
Of ignorance, possessing such a jewel
Above all price, if I forbore to give it
The best of ornaments? Therefore, Sophia,
In few words, know my pleasure, and as briefly
As you have ever done, obey me; to your discretion
I leave the government of my family,
And our poor fortunes: to the uttermost
Of what is mine, live plentifully,
And ere the remnant of our store be spent,
I hope, with my good sword, to reap for you
A harvest, that shall make a merry winter.
Since you are not
To be by me diverted from your purpose,
Go when you please, my poor impatient soul
Must follow after you. To tell you,
What in your absence I will do, would shew
But poorly; my actions best will speak it.—
It were to doubt your love, should I request
That I might hear from you; but by night or day,
No courier, unexamin'd, shall pass by.—
Adieu!
[throwing herself in his arms.
If thus within your arms I dwell too long,
Think of the cruel fast that must succeed
This short dear feast, and you'll excuse it.
Pray turn from me, all that I can is spoken!
[
Exit
SOPHIA.
Follow thy mistress strait, Corisca;
Forbear your wishes for me. Those let me find
At my return, in your prompt will to serve her.
Fly, Corisca.
For my own poor part, Sir, I will grow lean with hard study
To make my mistress merry.
(
Exeunt
HILLARIO
and
CORISCA.
I'm strangely troubled! yet why nourish thus
A fury here, and with imagin'd food,
Having no real grounds on which to raise
A doubt she ever was, or can be false?
In this, I do but foolishly enquire
The knowledge of a future sorrow.
[Muses.
Enter
BAPTISTA.
(Aside.)
Still brooding o'er imaginary ills
Which Fate herself might ne'er decree—My scheme
May cool this self-rais'd fever in his mind,
If to that credit I have gain'd in th' arts,
Credulity but lend the lover's ear;
Friendship at least approves of the device.
I've consulted with a friend of mine,
One deeply read in Nature's hidden secrets;
And, tho' with much reluctance, him have won
To do as much as Art enables him
To resolve me of my future fate.
[
Seeing
BAPTISTA.
Here to my wish he comes.
Now, my Baptista!
If you can
Proportion your desire to any mean,
I'd pronounce you happy. I have found
By certain rules of Art, your matchless wife
Is to the present hour unspotted.
Good!
In reason, therefore, you should be content,
And make no search of what may fall hereafter.
O Baptista!
'Tis not in me to master so my passions.
I must know farther, or you have made good
But half your promise. While my Love stood by
Holding her's upright—how, thus untempted,
Could she give proof of well-tried constancy?
But when I'm absent, and my coming back
Uncertain—she, without controul or curb,
The absolute disposer of herself—nay, more,
By strong temptations press'd on ev'ry side—
If then she holds out—
As no doubt she will:
These doubts must be made certainties
By your assurance, or your boasted Art
Will lose its admiration.
I cannot dive into her hidden thoughts,
And learn her close intents, with all my skill;
But what I can, I readily will do.—
Will it content you, if, while distant far,
You there shall know, as if you then were with her,
When, and how far, by Love, she e'er be wrought on?
I ask no more.
Take then this little model of Sophia,
With more than human skill pourtray'd;
Each line and lineament of the drawing
So punctually observ'd, that, had it motion,
'Twould ev'n dispute originality with her.
[Gives him the Miniature.
It is indeed an admirable piece!
Whence came it?
Of that no matter now—
But if it have not some concealed charm
Of which I know not, wherefore must I bear
Her lovely counterfeit?
I'll instruct you:
Carry it still about you, and as oft
As you have wish to know how she's affected,
With curious eye peruse it: while it holds
The beauteous image that it now presents
Entire and perfect, know that she remains
Not only innocent, but unattempted.
But if th' harmonious colouring should change,
And, from its softly blended white and red,
Incline to jealous yellow, rest assur'd
She is with ardor woo'd, tho' yet unconquer'd.
Should it assume a fatal sable hue,
Her virtue, and your honor, are no more!
Thanks, my Baptista.
So much have you engag'd me by this favor,
That the service of my life will scarce repay it.
Adieu!
Not yet; for I have more t' impart:
That as we ride along; for I'm not quite so old,
But I may see you join th' Hungarian troops,
And with the rising Sun behold the conflict.
As my better angel then,
You shall direct and guide me!—Come.
Our chargers there.
[
Exeunt
EUGENIUS
and
BAPTISTA.
SCENE II.
The
COURT
of
LADISLAUS.
Enter
UBALDO
and
RICARDO.
Came the courier from the camp last night?
Yes, as 'tis said, with a letter
From the General Ferdinand.
Sans question then it is of moment?
To those who carry lives in either army.
Was it chearfully received by the King?
So, so:—soon however as assur'd
The lines approach'd within each other's view,
He dispatch'd an officer to Ferdinand,
With absolute authority from him,
To try the fortune of the day.
The General then, no doubt, will fight it bravely.
Heav'n prosper him! This military art
I grant to be the noblest of professions;
And yet, I thank my stars! I never was
Inclin'd to learn it; for that bubble honor,
The pretty nothing for which these soldiers fight,
Is, in my judgment, of too dear a purchase.
Give me our court warfare; eh! Ricardo?
The danger's not so great in the encounter
Of a mistress—the conflict there costs no limbs—
Thou, by thy own report, Ricardo,
Wast a wag when young, and since that time
Hast studied every rank, from the night trader
I' th' street, with certain danger to thy pocket,
To the gay high-flier in the cabinet.
You talk, Ubaldo, as though you would appear
A novice in love's mysteries; or perhaps
My better genius gives you cause for envy.
No, thanks to my stars! I no man envy
From my own want, or his abundance;
To tell thee plainly, being, as you see,
The likelier man, and of much more experience,
There's no beauty
But yields ere it be summon'd; and as nature
Has stamp'd me the monopolist of maidens,
There's no man can buy till I have made my market.
Ha, ha, ha!
As I live I jest not. Why I'd part
With half my estate, nay, travel o'er the globe
To find that only Phoenix in my search,
That could wing out of my sure shot.
Who will dare doubt the dexterity of him
That twangs so long a bow? Pray, what d'ye think
Of the Queen?
No, no, Ricardo; I never yet did aim
At the lip-royal—that I still except:
Yet were she not our Sov'reign's own soft dove,
I would venture this neck to a halter,
To write her in my am'rous catalogue.
Have you but mark'd with what reserve she looks
When the King himself makes his approach to her,
As she were still a virgin, and his life
But one continued wooing?
Yes, and how she oft has swoon'd when she has heard
Of other women fam'd for charms or honors.
I marvel that she does not banish hence
All other female virtue from her court.
Well, where 'twill end I know not, for the King
Is so indulgent to her humours, that ev'n now,
When both his crown and life are at the stake,
He only studies her content—and when
She's pleas'd to shew herself, music and masques
Are with all care and cost provided.
This night she promis'd to appear.
She did, and will, no doubt; for prithee mark
The bustle of her royal harbinger.
Enter
LADISLAUS, EUBULUS,
and Attendants, with perfumes.
These rooms are not perfum'd as we directed.
No, Sir? I am sure the od'rous incense
Cost treble the price of the whole week's provision
Spent in your royal houshold.
How, Eubulus! when my Honoria
Descends to sanctify a place, and make
For me a temple; say, were it not profane
To deck it only with a careless hand?
Well; since you so closely hug your fetters,
In love's name wear them; you are King, and that
Concludes you wise—for me, I do subscribe.
Do, and looking up, behold this wonder!
The Scene rising to soft music, discovers
HONORIA
in State, under a Canopy, attended by the Court.
Wonder! it is more, great Sir!
Rapture! enchantment!
What think you?
[To Eubulus.
As the King thinks: that is the surest guard,
At least for you court butterflies—for me,
I can see a handsome woman (an' she be so)
Without spectacles,
But yet to adoration look not on her;
Heav'n, how he fawns!
And with what assured gravity she takes it,
As if it were his duty.
Oh, she at last vouchafes
Her hand; and, as if he had suck'd nectar from it,
How he's exalted!—She's about to speak,
What oracles shall we hear now?
Since you are pleas'd
With such assurances of love and favour
To grace your handmaid, but in being yours, Sir,
A matchless Queen;
I'm bound in gratitude to deserve
The grace conferr'd upon me.
You transcend in all things, Madam;
And 'tis my glory to depose myself
From absolute command—surrendering up
My will and faculties to your disposure.
And here I vow, not for a day or year,
But my whole life,
That whatsoever I in justice may
Exact from these my subjects, you from me
May boldly challenge.—And, when you require it,
In sign of my subjection as your vassal,
Thus will I pay my homage.
[Kneels to her.
O, forbear, Sir,
Let not my lips envy my robe, on them
Print your allegiance often. I desire
No other tribute!
Gracious Sov'reign,
Boundless in bounty!
Is not here fine fooling?
(Aside.)
He's questionless bewitch'd!
There's dainty picking
For all that.
(Aside.)
'Though my old life I forfeit
For it, yet I must speak. By your good leave, Sir;
I have no suit to you, nor can you grant one,
Having no power. You are like me, a subject,
Her more than serene Majesty being present;
And I must tell you, 'tis ill manners in you,
Having depos'd yourself, to keep your hat on,
And not stand bare, as we do. Gentlemen ushers,
It does belong to you to see 't reform'd;
He has given away his crown, and cannot challenge
The privilege of his bonnet.
[Tauntingly.
Do not tempt me.
(Aside.)
A devilish rough councellor this.
The King seems all amazement!
The Queen too has her share
Of deep imaginations. Eubulus
Hath put both to't.
Now she seems resolv'd.
I long to know the issue.
Give me leave,
Dear Sir, to reprehend you for appearing
Perplex'd, with what this privileg'd old man
Hath in his taunting irony applied.
—You know it was your own delight
To sue to me with more humility
Than I desir'd, yet 'twas my duty to obey;
I do but act the part you put upon me;
And though you make me personate a Queen,
And you my subject; when the play, your pleasure,
Is at an end, I then am what I was,
Still your humble wife, and you my King.
Admirable, on my troth!
(To Eubulus.)
And now to your wise Lordship
Hath my King
Cause to repent th' excess of favor to me,
Which you dislike? speak! nay, boldly too;
For I'm not ignorant what I can deserve,
And may with justice challenge.
This I look'd for;
After a seeming humble ebb, I knew
A gushing tide would follow.
(Aside.)
By my birth,
And liberal gifts of nature, as of fortune,
From you, as what's beneath me, I expect
What's due to Majesty, in which I am
A sharer with your Sov'reign.
Good again.
And as I am most eminent in place,
In all my actions I would appear so.
You need not fear a rival.
I hope not.
And 'till I find one, I disdain to know
What envy is.
You are above it, Madam.
For beauty without art, discourse, and free
From affectation, with what graces else
Can in the wife and daughter of a King
Be wish'd, I dare prefer myself.
Does the Court afford
No oil-tongu'd parasite, that you are forc'd
To be your own gross flatterer?
Be dumb
Thou ceaseless spirit of contradiction,
Or thy age, with all its boasted bluntness,
Will not another hour protect thee.
[A Trumpet.
A courier, my Liege.
Bid him enter.
Here's one, I fear, unwelcome as myself.
Enter
OFFICER.
From the camp, Sir?
Ay, my dread Liege, this from the general.
[The King reads the letters.
'Tis well, my Queen! the gallant Ferdinand
Doth here inform us, that by rapid march
He hath so gain'd upon the Turkish lines,
That ere the setting of the sun, the fate
Of either Kingdom must be known. Let's in,
And there, in Council, wait th' approaching tidings.
[
Exit King,
&c.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Enter
HILLARIO
and
CORISCA.
SO, you like my speech?
If you give it good action, i' th' delivery.
If! oh, how I pity you!
Why, I've play'd the fool before now.
There I do agree with you.
Well, if I put not our mistress, the Lady Sophia,
Out of her dumps with laughter, I look not
For preferment.
Do, and thou shalt be the best of Hillarios;
For she hath drank too oft the bitter cup,
A pleasant one must now restore her;
But think you she'll endure a jest about his death,
Since for his absence only she so grieves?
Um! that is a question which a widow
Only can resolve, and therefore worth the trying.
There be, who in their husband's sickness, have wept
Their pottle of tears a-day; but being assur'd
At midnight he was dead, i' th' morning
Dry'd up their handkerchiefs, and thought no more on't.
Tush, she is none of that race: if her sorrow
Be not true, woman ne'er wept in earnest.
She has made herself a prisoner to her chamber,
Dark as a dungeon, in which no beam
Of comfort enters.
And yet there may be mischief done
In a dark bed-chamber; nay, I've heard
As much.
Pooh! she admits no visits;
This hour she takes the air, with fondest hope
To receive assurance from some that may pass by
Of the success and safety of her Lord.
Now if your device will take—
Ne'er fear it:
I am provided cap-a-pee, having
I' th' summer-house my properties ready;
A courier's habit, and his sounding horn,
Found 'mongst our useless armoury.
(SOPHIA
speaks within.
)
Bring my veil there.
Be gone, I hear her coming.
I vanish: but if I don't appear,
And what's more, appear perfect, hoot at me.
[
Exit
HILLARIO.
Enter
SOPHIA.
I was flatter'd once I was a star, but now
Like a prodigious meteor I appear,
Hung in the air between my hopes and fears,
And ev'ry hour
That yields a waning light to dying comfort,
I do expect my fall, and certain ruin.
In wretched things, more wretched is delay.
Dreams and fantastic visions walk their round
About my widow'd bed, and ev'ry slumber's
Broke with loud alarms: Can these be then
But sad presages, girl?
You make 'em so,
And antedate a loss shall ne'er befal you;
Such pure affection, such mutual love,
A house without contention; in two bodies
One will and soul, like to the rod of concord
Kissing each other, cannot be short liv'd.
O, Corisca!
Too well I know thy reasons like thy wishes,
Are built upon a weak foundation,
To raise me comfort: since my Eugenius
Embark'd himself upon a sea of danger
In his dear care of me, I've naught but sorrow known;
'Tis strange, methinks, no tidings yet have reach'd us!
Ill news, Madam,
Is swallow-wing'd, while good but creeps on crutches.
[A horn sounds.
Ah! what's that?
This should be a courier from the camp,
As I take it.
[Sounds again.
It maketh this way still, and nearer yet!
The messenger appears, and in strange armour,
Heav'n, if it be thy will!
Enter
HILLARIO
disguised.
'Tis no boot to strive.
My horse being tir'd, I'll walk me on foot;
And that the castle, which is very near
To give me entertainment, may soon hear me,
I will another lusty blast! then drawing nigh,
Ask for the Lady who's 'yclep'd Sophia.
He names you, Madam!
for to her I do convey,
Thus clad in arms, news of a gallant soul,
By name Eugenius.
From my Lord? 'tis I,
I am that brave Eugenius's wife;
So may Mars favour you in all your battles,
As you with speed unload me of the burden
I labour under, till I am confirm'd,
Both where, and how you left him:
Have you no letters from him?
No; all mere word of mouth:
I' the camp we use no pens, but write with swords;
Know he's in health, and what's more, full of glory:
And now, I will proclaim his matchless deeds;
But tremble not while I relate the wonder,
Tho' I declare it in a voice of thunder!
This is some counterfeit braggard.
Nay, hear him, Madam!
The rear march'd first, which follow'd by the van,
And winged with the swift battalia,
No man durst stay to shift his shirt,
Or disencumber it of its hopeful stock;
Yet e'er the armies join'd, that pickled elf,
Thy dainty duckling, bold Eugenius,
Advanc'd with gallant stride, like Hercules!
A hundred thousand Turks (it is no vaunt)
Assail'd him with their bashaws of nine tails;
But how did he receive e'm? With his keen lance
He did so cut and carbonade 'em, that
One half fled;—but t' other wanting legs
And arms, could neither fight, nor follow!
This is ridiculous.
I must take breath,
Then, like a nightingale, I'll sing his death.
His death?
On my troth I'm out, my wit forsakes me.
(Aside)
Recover, dunderhead!
(Aside)
How he escap'd I should have sung, not died,
For tho' a knight, when I said so, I fibb'd:
Weary he was, and scarce could stand an end,
When looking round for some courageous knight
To rescue him, as one perplex'd in woe,
He call'd to me—help, help, Hillario!
He has spoil'd all!
(Aside)
Are you the man of arms? Then I'll make bold
To take off your martial beaver; you had fool's hair
Enough without it—slave, how dar'st thou make
Thy sport of what concerns me more than life,
In such an antic fashion? Am I grown.
Contemptible to those I feed?—You, Corisca,
Had a hand in't too, as it appears.
We did it only for your mirth, Madam.
For myself, I hope
I have spoke like a good soldier at least.
Hence, buffoon!
I never but with reverence name my Lord,
And shall I hear him by thy tongue profan'd?
But since you are
Transform'd, and turn'd knight-errant, take your course,
And wander where you please; for here I vow,
By my Lord's life, an oath I will not break,
Till his return, or certainty of his safety,
My doors are shut against thee.
[
Exit
SOPHIA.
You have made
A fine piece of work on't! how do you like your reward?
You had a foolish itch to be an actor,
And may now stroll about where you please.
Will you buy my share o'th' profit, Corisca?
No, I fear I have already
Too much of mine own—
And so, dear Don Quixote, taking my leave,
I leave you to your new fortune.
[
Exit
CORISCA.
Have I cudgell'd
My poor brain for this rare invention,
To be thus rewarded?—I could turn
Tragedian, and roar amain, but that I fear
'Twould get me too large a stomach, having
No meat to satisfy her cravings—Ah, poor me!
I cannot beg in armour, that would dishonour
More than myself; and steal I dare not!—
My end must be to stand in a corn field,
And fright away the crows for bread and cheese,
Or find some hollow tree in the highway,
And there sell switches till my Lord's return!
[
Exit
HILLARIO.
SCENE II.
Enter
EUBULUS, RICARDO,
and
UBALDO,
with wands of Office.
I like the issue of this stubborn battle:
Are the officers gone as by the King directed,
To receive the gallant General?
Long since, and ere this have greeted him.
You know your office, Lords, on his arrival?
Who, we? oh! fear not us, my Lord, I pray,
We know our distance and degrees.
The state were miserable truly, if
The court had none of her own breed familiar
With all the gaits of form and punctilio,
To receive its visitors.
'Tis a great pity
That such as sit at the helm, provide no better
For the training up of the gentry:—in my judgment
An academy erected, with large pensions
To such as miraculously speak
I'th' congees, cringes, postures, and the phrase
Proper to every nation.
O, it were
An admirable piece of work.
And yet rich fools
Throw away their charity on hospitals
For beggars and lame soldiers, and ne'er study
The due regard to compliment, and court breeding.
Our court needs no aid this way, since it is
A school of nothing else. There are some of you
Whom I forbear to name, whose coining heads
Are the mint of all new fashions, that have done
More hurt to the kingdom by superflous foppery,
Which the foolish gentry imitate, than a war
Or a long famine; all the treasure by
This foul excess, is got into the hands of
Silk-men, tailors, and embroiderers!
Nay, the third part of the land too, our nobles
Engrossing titles only!
My Lord, you are bitter.
Sharp as a hoar-frost.
[A trumpet.
Enter a
SERVANT.
The general is alighted, and now enter'd.
Were he ten generals, I am prepar'd,
And know what I will do.
Pr'ythee what, Ricardo?
Why, I'll fight at compliments with him.
Will you? then I'll charge him too, on the same gage.
Take care, gallants, you do not find this
A more desperate service than you think for.
[Flourish.
Enter
FERDINAND, EUGENIUS,
and attendant Officers.
(To an Officer.)
Captain, command the Officers to keep
The troops still dress'd in rank and file,
Till they have further orders.
[
Exit
OFFICER.
Here's one speaks
In a different key! this is no canting prattle
Taught in your academy of compliments.
[To Ric. and Ubal.
Nay, I will present you to the King myself.
That is a grace will go beyond my merit.
You undervalue what I cannot set
Too high a price on.
With a friend's true heart
I congratulate your return.
Next to the favour
Of my Prince, I'm happy in your friendship.
By courtliness, coarse enough on both sides!
Pray you receive
This stranger; by our knowledge, on my credit
At all parts he deserves it.
Your report
Is a strong assurance to me.—Sir, most welcome.
The reverence of your age commands me
To believe it.
This was pretty!
But now for my attack.—
[apart]
—You'll second me?
I cannot stoop so low, to do your Excellence
That due observance which your fortune claims.
The prig forgets his virtue and his valour.
For being, as you are, the soul of soldiers,
And bulwark of Bellona—
The protection
Both of the Court, and King—
And the sole minion
Of mighty Mars!
Hey dey!
It being impossible in my arms to circle
Such giant worth—
At distance we presume
To kiss your honoured gauntlet.
What reply now
Can he make to this foppery?
You have said,
Gallants, so much, and hitherto done so little,
That till I learn to speak, and you to act,
I must take time to thank you.
As I live, answered as I could wish.
How the fops gape now!
This was harsh, and scurvy.
We will be reveng'd
When he comes into the circle o'th' court ladies.
Nay, do your offices, gentlemen, and conduct
The General to the presence.
Keep your order.
Make way for the General.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Royal Saloon.
The Curtain rising, discovers
LADISLAUS, HONORIA, FERDINAND, EUGENIUS, BAPTISTA,
&c. attended by
ACANTHE,
and the Court.
FULL CHORUS.
Crown'd with conquest! view the chief,
Destin'd for the state's relief!
Valour bids the wreath be bound,
To entwine his temples round:
Bids us such a hero prize,
And exalt him to the skies!
This courtesy
To the General, my Honoria, keeps fair rank
With all your virtues!
After your warfare,
[To Ferdinand.
Look on our court delights; but first from your
Relation, with delighted ears, I'll hear
The music of your war, which must be sweet,
Ending in victory.
Not to trouble
Your Majesties with the description of a battle,
Too full of horror for the place, I'll be as brief as possible.
It was well fought on both sides, and almost
With equal fortune; it continuing doubtful
Upon whose tents plum'd victory would take
Her glorious stand. Impatient of delay,
With the flower of our prime gentlemen, I charg'd
Their main battalia, and with their assistance
Broke in; but when I was almost assur'd
They were routed, by a stratagem
Of the subtle Turk,
Rallying up his troops on either side,
I found myself so far engag'd (for I
Must not conceal my faults) that I knew not
Which way, with honor, to retreat.
I like
A general that tells his faults, and is not
Ambitious to engross unto himself
All honor, as some have; in which, with justice,
They could not claim a share.
Being thus hemm'd in,
Their scymetars rag'd amongst us; and my horse
Kill'd under me, I every minute look'd for
An honorable end, and that was all
My hope could fashion to me. Circled thus
With death and horror, as one sent from heav'n,
This man of men, with some choice horse that follow'd
[To Eugenius.
His brave example, did pursue the track
His sword cut for them; and (but that I see him
Already blush to hear what, he being present,
I know would wish unspoken) I should say, Sir,
By what he did, we boldly may believe
All that is writ of ancient heroes!
General,
Pray spare the feelings of an humble soldier.
Do not blush
To hear a truth, here are a pair of Monsieurs,
[To Ubaldo and Ricardo.
Had they been in your place, would have run away,
And ne'er chang'd countenance.
We have your good word still.
And shall while you deserve it.
Silence!—on:
He, as I said, like dreadful light'ning thrown
From Jove's broad shield, dispers'd the armed host
With which I was environ'd. Horse and man
Shrunk under his strong arm: more with his looks
Frighted, the valiant fled; with which encourag'd,
My soldiers, like young eagles, preying under
The wings of their fierce dam, bravely came on.
By him I was remounted, inspir'd
With treble courage, and such as fled before
Boldly made head again; and to confirm 'em,
It suddenly was apparent that the fortune
Of the day was ours. Each soldier and commander
Perform'd his part; but this was the great wheel
By which the lesser mov'd, and all rewards
And signs of honor to him alone belong.
And they shall
Deservedly fall on him.
To the banquet now—prepare to entertain 'em.
[The Masques retire repeating the Chorus.
Permit me, Sir, to hope
That your commanders,
Especially this stranger, may as I.
In my discretion shall think good, receive
What's due to their deserts.
What you determine
Shall know no alteration.
The soldier
Is like to have good usage when he depends
Upon her pleasure.
With you, Sir,
[To Eugenius.
I will begin; and as, in my esteem,
You are most eminent, expect to have
What's fit for me to give, and you to take;
Bring me my casket, and with speed:
[ACANTHE
goes out, and returns immediately with a Casket.
See here!
The lapidary's idol! gold is trash!
A poor salary fit for grooms—wear these
As studed stars within your circling shield;
Call them Honoria's gift,
Who loves not a valiant soldier; yet not to take
From the magnificence of the King, I will
Dispense his bounty too, but as a page
To wait on mine: for other losses take
An hundred thousand crowns: your hand, dear Sir,
And this shall be thy warrant.
[Takes off the King's Signet.
Are you pleas'd, Sir,
With what I've done?
Yes, my Queen, and confirm it
With this addition of mine own: you have, Sir,
From our lov'd Queen receiv'd some recompence
For your life, hazarded in the late action;
And that we may follow her great example
In cherishing her love, ask what your heart can wish!
If wealth were my ambition, by the Queen
I am made rich already, to th' amazement
Of all that see, or shall hereafter read
The story of her bounty.—If to spend
The remnant of my life in deeds of arms,
No region is more fertile of good Knights,
From whom my knowledge that way may be better'd,
Than this your warlike Hungary:—but, alas! Sir,
I am not my own, being by destiny,
Which I cannot resist, forc'd to prefer
My country's homely smoke, before the fire
With which your bounties warm me—All then I ask,
Dread Sir, is but your gracious license for
My departure.
Whither?
To my own home, Sir; just on the frontier of your realm:
My own poor home, which will, at my return,
Grow rich by your munificence. I am here
But a body without a soul; and till I find it
In the embraces of a constant wife,
Whose beauteous excellencies know no rival,
I am but half myself.
And is she then
So chaste and fair as you infer?
Have I liv'd to hear this?
(Aside.)
O, Madam!
Though it must argue weakness in me, thus
To shew my wealth before an armed host,
By praising of my wife, only to fan
The flame of love in others to admire her,
Such is my confidence in her virtue,
Though in my absence, she were now besieg'd
By a strong party of lascivious wooers—
Here is th' assurance of her unsapp'd honor!
[Kisses the Picture.
What's that?
How—have I liv'd to hear my fame excell'd!
(Aside.)
Nay frown not, sweetest,
The Cyprian Queen, compar'd to you, in my
Opinion, were an Ethiop! At your desire
I'll see the soldiers paid; and inmy absence,
Pray use powerful argument, to stay
This gallant soldier in our service.
I will, Sir,
To the utmost of my power.
On to the camp.
[
Exit
LADIS. FERD. EUE. BAPTIS.
and Officers.
I am full of thought!
Something lies here, tormenting me within,
I must give form to: you, good Signors,
Have little business with the soldier, as I take it
You are for other warfare; so retire, but be
Within call.
Employment, on my life, boy!
If it be in our road we are made fer ever.
[
Exit
UBALDO
and
RICARDO.
You may perceive, Sir, the King is no ways tainted
With the disease of jealousy, since he leaves me
Thus private with you.
It were in him, Madam,
A sin unpardonable, to distrust such pureness.
I presume he would not; and yet the story
Deliver'd of you by the General,
Which sinks too deeply in a woman's heart,
Join'd to your presence, might beget some scruple
In a meaner man—but more of this hereafter,
For mine's a softer theme—when I conjure you
By the honors you have won, and by the love
Sacred to your dear wife, to answer truly
To what I shall demand.
You need enforce no charm, Madam,
Say then, amidst your converse with our sex
Have you not found that constancy give way?
By the hopes of mercy, never!—I have been
Receiv'd to the society of the best
And fairest of our clime, from them have met
No common entertainment—yet never felt
My well-plac'd love abate.
Strange! and do you think still
That earth can shew no beauty that may drench
In Lethe all remembrance of the favor
You now bear to her?
Nature must first find out
Some other mould to fashion a new creature
Fairer than mortal eyes have seen, ere I prove
Guilty, or in my wishes or my thoughts,
To my beloved Sophia.
Sir!—consider better,
Not one in our whole sex?
I am constant to my resolution, Madam.
But dare you stand the trial?—and bind yourself
By oath for the performance?
My faith else
Had but a weak foundation.
I embrace
Your promise, and enjoin your stay
For one month here!
[Aside.
I am caught!
And if I do not
Produce a lady in that time, who shall
Make you confess your error, I submit
Myself to any penalty you shall please
T' impose upon me: in the mean space, write
To your chaste wife, acquaint her with your fortune.
The jewels that were mine, you may send to her
For better confirmation; I'll provide you
Trusty messengers—there's no returning—
I'll bind you to your word.
Well, since there is
No way to shun it, I will stand the hazard,
And instantly make ready my dispatch;
'Till then, I'll leave your majesty.
[
Exit
EUGENIUS.
How I burst
With envy, that there lives besides myself
So fair, and chaste a woman!—'twas the end
Of my ambition to be recorded
The only wonder of the age, and shall I,
Now give way to a competitor?
I thought one amorous glance of mine could bring
All hearts to my subjection—but this stranger
Unmov'd as rock contemns me!
I must know more of this fair prodigy;
And for that purpose quickly will dispatch
Ubaldo and Ricardo, courtiers both
Well train'd in all the windings of our sex—.
But him, although bright honor deck his brow
I view not with a wanton eye—my pride
Howe'er demands a tributary sigh
'Tis all I ask; so that ere morning's dawn
By well feign'd female blandishments I'll prove
Whether I cannot warm his heart to love!
[
Exit.
HON.
END OF THE SECOND ACT.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
HILLARIO
discover'd in a mean habit, sitting near a spring in the front of the Castle.
THIN, thin provision!—I am dieted
Like one set to watch hawks; and to keep me waking,
Vile hunger croaks a perpetual larum in me!
—Here stand I centinel, and though I fright
Beggars from my lady's gate, in hopes to have
A larger share—I find my commons mend not!
—I look'd this morning into my glass—the river,
And there appear'd a fish call'd "a poor John,"
Cut with a lenten face after my own likeness;
And he seem'd to say, "Good morrow, cousin!"
—No man comes this way but has a sting at me.
A chirurgeon passing by, asked at what rate
I would sell myself?—for what use? quoth I?
To make, said he, a live anatomy,
As thou art transparent without dissection!
—They say, that famine dwells i'th' camp, tho' till
My lord returns, or certain tidings of him
She will stick close by me;—but sorrow's dry
And I must drink!
[Draws water with an earthen pitcher, and drinks.
A marvellous difference I vow, betwixt
This poor, and dropsical potation,
And a skinful of honest Canary!
What signifies it's curing the heart burn
When it gives me the heart-ache, and for which
This hard dry crust will prove no good specific!
I'll try if I can sing it away.
SONG.
Poor Hillario, once so jolly,
G
ing up his wits to folly,
Finds it now an alter'd case;
He no more o'er larded pullet,
Or the white or cherry'd mullet,
At the table takes his place.
Courtiers thus of every nation,
Ev'ry age, and every station,
Tumble into my disgrace;
When pamper'd by the state's best dishes,
They soon kick down the
loaves
and
fishes,
Then get themselves
—kick'd out of place!
Enter
UBALDO, RICARDO,
and
GUIDE.
That is the Lady's castle,
O' my certain knowledge.
Our horses held out to admiration.
I am on fire to see the quarry;
Plump and pretty, no doubt!
Give me the cabinet.
[takes it from the Guide.
So; leave us now.
Good fortune to you, most honourable gallants.
[Exit Guide.
Being d'ye see, joint agents in a design
For the service of the Queen, and our own pleasure!
It behoves us, Ricardo, to proceed with judgment.
On my troth here seem to be two more sham knights,
Come, like me, to play the fool!
[Aside.
If I take not
This fair fort, at the first assault,
So I may have precedence—
On no terms;
We are both to besiege one prize; let him
Who carries her, enjoy it without contention.
Agreed—but mind and make you your approaches
As I directed.
Sir, I need no instructions;
I work on no man's anvil—But who have we here?
What skeleton's this?
A ghost; thou image of famine,
Where dost thou dwell?
Dwell Sir? my dwelling is
I'th' highway. That goodly house was once
My habitation; but I am banish'd,
And cannot be call'd home 'till news arrive
Of the good knight Eugenius.
If that will restore thee,
Thou art safe—
We come from him,
With presents to his lovely wife.
But are you sure
He is in health?
Never so well; conduct us
To his fair Lady.
I will leap
Out of my skin for joy!—Break, pitcher, break;
And wallet, late my cupboard, I bequeath thee
To the next beggar; thou red herring, swim
To the red sea again! methinks I am already
Knuckle deep in the stew pots; and, tho' waking, dream
Of wine and plenty!
What's the mystery
Of this strange passion?
My hunger, gentlemen,
Will not give me leave to tell you; when I have brought you
To my Lady's presence, I am disenchanted,
There you shall know all.—Follow: if I out-strip you,
Know I run for my belly.
A mad fellow this, surely!
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Enter
SOPHIA
and
CORISCA.
Do not again delude me with an idle tale.
If I do, Madam, banish me to poor Hillario.
I stood as you commanded in the turret,
Observing all that passed by; and even now
I did discern a pair of cavaliers
With their guide dismounting; they said something
To our hungry centinel, that made him caper,
And frisk i' th' air for joy:—and to confirm all this,
See, Madam, they're in view.
Enter
UBALDO, RICARDO,
and
HILLARIO.
Down on your knees with me; tidings of joy!
News from my Lord!—These are no counterfeits!—
Set out the cold chine, and ven'son pasties!
[Speaking within.
They are true knights indeed!—The cold chine I say,
And a bottle of canary!—Dear Madam, sign
My pardon, that I may once more feed again,
And pick up my crumbs, for indeed I've had
A long fast of it.
Thou may'st eat; I forgive thee!
O words most comfortable!
"Eat, I forgive thee!"
And if in this I do not soon obey you,
And cram unto the purpose—billet me again
I' th' highway—Butler and cook make ready,
For I shall enter like a tyrant, laying
All waste before me!
[
Exit
HILLARIO.
I have been struck dumb
This half hour! Madam, since my faithful eyes
Were never happy in so sweet an object,
I presume, without enquiry, that you are
The fairer Lady of this fair castle,
And so salute you.
[Kisses her.
Faith he has got the first bite at the cherry.
[Aside.
This letter, with these jewels from your Lord,
Warrant my boldness, Madam.
[Salutes her.
Heav'n in thy mercy make me
Thy thankful handmaid, for this bounteous blessing.
I do not like
This simple devotion in her; it is seldom
Practis'd among our mistresses at court.
Nor would they kneel, to I know not who, for the possession
Of such inestimable wealth, before
They thank'd the bringers of it? The poor Lady
Wants instruction, 'tis plain; I'll be her tutor,
And soon read her another lesson.
If I have
Shewn want of manners, gentlemen, in my slowness
To pay the thanks I owe your travel,
To do my Lord and me this noble favor,
Impute it, in your clemency, to the excess
Of joy that overwhelm'd me.
She speaks it well.
Polite, and courtly.
And howe'er it may
Increase th' offence, to trouble you with more
Demands touching my Lord, before I have
Invited you to taste, such as the plainness
Of my poor house can offer,—
Let me entreat, to learn from you something
In his letters he may have left unmention'd.
I can only
Give you assurance that he is in health,
Grac'd by the King and Queen.
And in the court
With admiration look'd on.
You must therefore
Put off these homely garments, and appear
Like to yourself.
And entertain all pleasures
Your fortune marks out for you.
There are other
Droll particulars, which on occasion
I will deliver to you.
You oblige me,
To your service ever.
Good! your service, mark that!
[To Ubaldo.
In the mean time, by your acceptance, make
My rustic entertainment relish of
The pleasures of the court.
Your looks, sweet Madam,
Cannot but make each dish a feast.
It shall be
Such, in the freedom of my will to please you:
I'll shew the way; this is too great an honor
For me, so mean an hostess.
[
Exeunt,
RICARDO
leading her out.
SCENE III.
A Garden by Moon light.
Enter
ACANTHE,
to Ruffians masqued.
You know your charge? give it due action, and expect
Rewards beyond your hopes.
If we but eye 'em
They are ours, I warrant you.
May we not ask why
We are put upon this?
Let that command your silence,
[Gives money.
And learn more manners, grooms: 'tis upon the hour
In which they're here expected; when you have 'em
In your power, instantly carry them to the place
Where I appointed, there will I expect you.
Be bold, and vigilant!
[
Exit
ACANTHE.
Enter
EUGENIUS
and
BAPTISTA.
These are they!
Are you sure?
Am I sure I am myself?
Seize on him quickly; if he have but means
To draw his sword, 'tis ten to one we smart for't.
[Aside.
I cannot guess
What the Queen's intents are; but her carriage was
As I but now related.
Your assurance
In the constancy of your Lady, is the armour
That must defend you. Where's the picture?
Here; and no way alter'd, I think.
If she be not perfect, there's no truth in art.
By this I hope she hath receiv'd my letters?
Without question.
—Lend me your ear,
I have somewhat that requires your privacy.
Exeunt
EUGENIUS
and
BAPTISTA.
Now they stand fair!—upon 'em.
[Exeunt.
Villains!
[Behind.
Traitors!
[Behind.
SCENE IV.
Enter
EUBULUS.
I like not well this wooing embassy
Betwixt the Royal Pair.—A common man,
Who his own bed can tumble at his will,
Wants no such messenger to smoothe his way.
[Knocks at the Queen's anti-chamber.
ACANTHE,
from window above.
Who knocks so loud without?
'Tis Eubulus,
Commission'd from her Lord to greet the Queen.
I'll tell her so, but doubt your errand's vain.
[
Exit
ACANTHE.
With all my heart! Love frolics not with me,
A bachelor's the fellow after all!
ACANTHE
re-appearing.
No suit will shake the Queen from her resolve;
Who craves the King's and your excuse, my Lord,
For this her solitude to-night.
'Tis well,
I'll trouble you no further.
[
Exit
ACANTHE.
I had orders to win her woman's interest with a purse;
But such a traffic is too pitiful
For Eubulus! I ever thought a King
Might take up any at the King's good price,
And must he buy his
own
at
dearer
rate?
If this be long the fashion of the court,
Shame fall on such as use it!—My return
Will lack so much of comfort, that the King,
Howe'er his Queen may fare, will press, I doubt,
A joyless pillow.
[
Exit
EUBULUS.
SCENE V.
Enter
EUGENIUS.
If I'm in a prison, 'tis a neat one;
What Oedipus can resolve this riddle?
I ne'er gave just cause to any man
Basely to plot against my life. But what is
Become of my Baptista? for him I suffer
More than myself.
Remove that idle fear;
[Behind.
He's safe as you are.
Whosoe'er thou art,
For him I thank thee. I cannot imagine
Where I should be! Tho' I have read the table
Of errant knighthood, stuff'd with the relations
Of magical enchantments, yet am not I
So weakly credulous, to believe the fiend
Hath that way any power. Ha! music!
[A symphony.
AIR.
[Within.
Would you view the loveliest rose
Nature's fragrant charms disclose,
Every chilling thought remove,
Warm it with the breath of Love!
A song too! and that in flowing measure;
Be what it may that owns this tuneful voice,
It hath not much acquaintance with affliction.
Whoe'er you are that do inhabit here,
If not aerial forms alone, approach!
Enter
HONORIA
veil'd.
And make me know your end with me—Most strange!
What have I conjur'd up? Sure, if this be
A spirit, 'tis no damned one! If that your lovely face
Have not too much divinity about it
For mortal eyes to gaze upon; oh! perfect what
You have begun with wonder,
To my astonish'd senses.
(She unveils.)
How! the Queen!
[Kneels.
Rise, Sir, and hear my reasons, in defence
Of that constraint which I've by force put on you:
You perhaps may think, what for my love you've suffer'd
Is a common practice with me; but I call
Those ever shining lamps, and their great Maker,
As witnesses of my innocence, I ne'er saw
Man but your dear self, on whom I ever
(Except the King) vouchsaf'd an eye of favor.
The King, and only such a King, deserves
Your favor, Madam; for myself, great Queen,
I am a thing obscure, disfurnish'd of
All merit that can raise me higher, than
In my most humble gratitude, for your bounty,
To hazard my life for you, and that way,
I am most ambitious.
I desire no more
Than what you promise. If you dare expose
Your life, as you profess, to do me service,
How can it better be employ'd than in
Preserving mine? which only you can do,
Nay, must do, with the danger of your own.
Pray you forbear:
I would I did not understand too much
Already; by your lips I am instructed
To credit that, which not confirm'd by you,
I should have deem'd dissimulation,
Tho' an angel's voice had thus affirm'd it.
But were you cloy'd with happiness that's built
On lovely chastity, which I still doubt,
—Amid ten thousand every way more apt
To be thus wrought on, being your subjects,
Why should you deign to chuse out me, a stranger?
Proud in the tented field I'll fight your cause;
Or with this arm—
I need no champion
With sword to guard my beauty, or my honor;
In both I can defend myself, and live
My own protectress.
If these advocates,
The best that plead in my behalf, want pow'r,
What can be found in me to tempt you thus,
To war against yourself?
I will be plain:
It is your loyalty unto your wife,
Hath rais'd my envy, and inspir'd my love!
These are mere contraries: if you love me, Madam,
For my constancy, why seek you to destroy it?
In my keeping, it preserves me worth your favor!
Or if it be a jewel of that value,
As you with labour'd rhet'ric would persuade me,
What can you stake against it?
A Queen's fame,
And equal honors.
Is it in man
To resist such strong temptations?
He begins
To waver.
[Aside.
Madam, as you are gracious,
Grant me this one short night's deliberation,
And with the rising sun you shall
Receive my answer.
Tho' extremes
Hate all delay, I will deny you nothing—
This key will bring you to your friend. You're safe;
And all things that imagination could prepare,
For one I love and honour, wait upon you.—
Take counsel of your pillow; such a fortune
As with affection's swistest wing now seeks you,
Will not again await you.
[
Exit
HONORIA.
How my blood
Rebels!—I now could call her back, and yet
There's something stays me; if the King had tender'd
Such favors to
my wife,
'tis to be doubted
They had not been refus'd—But as a man
I should not yield, and prove the first example
For her defence of frailty!—By this, perhaps
She's tempted too! but here I may examine.
[Looks at the Picture.
No, my Sophia's still the same—the same
Pure chrystal rock of innocence! perish all
Allurements that may alter me!—The snow
Of her sweet chastity hath quite put out
The fire that but e'en now began to flame;
And I by her confirm'd, rewards, nor titles,
Nor death in all its terrors, from the Queen herself,
Shall shake my constant faith!
[Exit.
SCENE VI.
Enter
UBALDO
and
RICARDO.
We've laid a good foundation; for 'tis clear
Our tale begins to work! But come!
By lot, you know, I first must wooe her.
Plague take it, you have the felicity
Of the first advance; but as it is condition'd,
Observe the time proportion'd by us both,
With this repeater I shall minute you.
Panting for my share in the atchievement,
When I cry hem! fall off!
I will; provided you are like observant.
Stand by, she comes: I'll watch my opportunity.
Enter
SOPHIA.
Strangely distracted with the various stories,
Now well, now ill, then doubtfully by my guests
Deliver'd of my lord,—and like poor beggars
That in their dreams find treasure, by reflection
Of a wounded fancy, make it questionable
Whether they sleep or not;—in some such measure
Incredulous of what I see, and touch,
As 'twere a fading apparition, I
Am still perplex'd and troubled; and when most
Confirm'd 'tis true, a curious jealousy
To be assur'd, by what means, and from whom,
Such a mass of wealth was first deserv'd, then gotten,
Cunningly steals in upon me. I have practis'd
For my certain resolution with these courtiers,
Promising private conference to either,
And at this hour; if in the search of truth
I hear, or say, more than becomes my virtue
Forgive me my Eugenius!
Now I advance—
[Aside.
Madam, as you commanded me, I attend
Your pleasure.
I must thank you for the favor.
Tho' I am no ghostly father; yet, if you have
Some scruples, touching your lord, you wou'd be resolv'd of,
I am prepar'd.
But will you take your oath
To answer truly those?
On those orthodox lips, if you please,
A vow I dare not break, it being a holy book
I would gladly swear on.
To spare, Sir, that trouble,
I'll take your word, which, in a gentleman,
Should be of equal value. Is my lord then
In such grace with the Queen?
I fain would tell the truth
As decently as I could, yet the subject
May make me run out a little.
Oh! you would put
A foolish jealousy in my head, that he
Hath gotten a new mistress.
One? a hundred!
But under seal I speak it:—I presume
Upon your silence, it being for your profit.—
Such a soldier, and such a courtier never came
To Alba Regalis:—the ladies run mad for him!
Nay, there is such a contention among them
Who shall engross him wholly, that the like
Was never heard of.
Are they handsome, Sir?
Fie! oh, coarse mammets: and what's worse, they're old;
Some fifty, others threescore, and upwards!
'Tis time I call him off.
[Hems!
I could tell you of wonders great and strange,
Of the deeds he has done,
(Ricardo hems!)
but matters
Of great import, for the present, call me hence—
Those arrang'd,
I'll instantly return.
[Steps aside.
There's something more
In this than bare suspicion!
Save you, Madam!
Now you look like yourself—I've not beheld
A lady more complete—yet let me see,
[Examines her jewels.
Yes, yes, I am certain I have seen a madam
Wear jewels of that water and dimensions.
What madam, Sir?
Nay, nothing: yet methinks
I should this ruby know: yes, it is the same;
This chain of orient pearl, and this bracelet,
Have been worn before.
Why, Sir? how were they gotten, say?
Not in the field with his sword, upon my life.
[EUBAL.
hems.
Plague on't, how fast the minutes glide away!
[Aside.
Pray you, fair lady, to excuse my manners.
I left a letter in my chamber window,
Which I would not have seen on any terms:
Fie on my carelessness—but this I'll soon dispatch.
[Withdraws.
This is strange! His letters said these jewels were
Presented him by the Queen, as a reward
For his good service! What can all this mean?
Enter
UBALDO.
I was telling you of wonders, Madam:
If you are so skilfull,
Without premeditation answer me:
Know you these jewels?
Mercy! how things will out!
But that I might, perchance, give you offence,
And wrong my more than noble friend,
Your husband (for we are sworn brothers)
In the discovery of his nearest secrets, I could—
Could? By the hope of that favour then,
Which you have for me, out with it!
Nay, this is a spell so potent, that I
Cannot resist.—Why, I will tell you, Madam;
And to how many several ladies you are
Beholden for your pretty trappings.—This was
The necklace of
Paulina,
a rich Courtezan;
Worn but a day, when she married old
Gonzago,
And left off trading,
Oh, my heart!
This chain
Of pearl was a great widow's that invited
Your Lord to a masque; and the weather proving foul,
He lodg'd in her house all night—and merry they were!
But how he came by it, I know not.
Perjur'd man!
O, there's not a single gem, or jewel in the court,
But may be at his command.
(Agitated)
I commend him!
But, I pray you, leave me
A little to myself.
Enter
RICARDO.
You may command
Your servant, Madam: she's stung to the quick.
[
to
RIC.
I did my part: if this work not, hang me.
Let her sleep as well as she can to night; to-morrow
We'll mount new batteries!
And till then leave her.
[
Ex.
UBAL.
and
RIC.
Ye Powers that take into your care the guard
Of innocence, aid me! for I am a creature
So forfeited to despair, hope cannot fancy
A ransom to redeem me. I begin to
Waver in my faith, and make it doubtful
Whether the Saints, so canonized for
Their holiness of life, sinn'd not in secret,
Since my Eugenius is fall'n from his virtue
In such an open fashion. Could it be else
That such a husband, so devoted to me,
So vow'd to temp'rance,—for unhallow'd gifts
Should thus to wantons sacrifice his fame?
Was't for this he left me?
Was it not enough to cloath me with the shame,
But he must make me wear their am'rous spoils!
Here will I tear them off; and with my tears,
Their poison wash away!—Yet hold! who knows
But these are false and wanton knaves, who
Traduce his honor with the basest views.
His long-try'd love a different tale relates,
And bids me not too rashly censure him:
At least these Lords with keener eye I'll read,
Ere I impute to him so foul a deed!
[Ex.
END OF ACT THE THIRD.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Enter
EUGENIUS.
THIS is a desperate straight, there's no avoiding;
I must compliance feign to all
Her passion urges, or—or what? only
That with my life my miseries will end!
But were the pointed axe uplifted now,
My neck upon the block, I would not buy
An hour's reprieve, by such a faithless barter!
Yet after all, Sophia may be false!
The visit of these silken courtiers
Much alarms me, for they've been early train'd
In all the soft and wanton gallantries
That shake the easy faith of yielding woman:
I almost dread to ask for council here!
[Looks on the Picture.
Ha! sure I do not sleep! or if I dream,
This is a terrible vision—I'll clear
My eye-sight—perhaps melancholy makes me
See that which is not!
Enter
BAPTISTA.
What is it there you see?
Indeed, Baptista, 'tis but too apparent;
I grieve to look upon't—besides the yellow,
That does assure she's tempted—I think I see
A sable colour spread its baneful hue
O'er ev'ry line of her once lovely face,
Confirming both her own, and my dishonor!
(Aside.)
—Well may they say that monster Jealousy
Creates the food it feeds on!—Indeed,
I see no alteration.
Fact, Baptista;
Make not yourself a pandar to her vices,
In labouring to palliate, what a mask
Of impudence can't cover—Did woman e'er
In her will decline from chastity, but found means
To give her passion scope?—more possible
Is't with my single arm to underprop
A falling tow'r—or in its violent course
To stop the forked lightning, than to stay
A wanton woman!
Pray you temper the violence of your passion.
Oh, my Baptista! I am headlong thrown
Into a gulph of misery, and find
Myself past hope:—this figure of my idol,
So late that chaste and lovely mirror,
Is to a magic glass transformed, and shews
Nothing but horror and deformity.
I'm sure you do her wrong.
Have I refus'd a Queen,
Whose soft beauties had ravish'd at first sight
A hermit from his beads, and chang'd his pray'rs
To am'rous sonnets, to preserve my faith
Inviolate to thee; with the hazard of
My death with tortures, to be thus requited?
Yet hold—I will not curse thee, Sophia,
Nor for thy falshood rail against the sex;
'Tis poor and common; I'll only
Whisper unto myself, howe'er they seem,
Nor present, past, nor ages yet to come,
Have heretofore, can now, or ever shall
Produce one constant woman!
This is more
Than the satirists wrote against 'em.
There's no language
That can express the poison of these aspics,
These weeping crocodiles, and all too little
That hath been said against 'em:—but I'll mould
My thoughts into another form, and if
She can out-live the report of what I'll do—
Enter
HONORIA.
The Queen, Sir.
In sign of deep contrition for their error,
My lips that shunn'd the last night profer'd bliss,
Thus on your footsteps seal their willing duty:
Chimerican darkness would not let me see,
What now with adoration I behold!
This is more
Than I could hope, for my beauty still admits
No rival.
[Aside.
Wait our command at distance—you too have
Free liberty to depart.
[To Baptista.
I am poor in manners,
But thank you, Madam, for the favour.
Have you taken
Good rest in your new lodgings?—I now expect
Your last resolve, but advise maturely
Before I hear it.
Pray you rise,
Your late neglect, I freely pardon.
My soul's on fire.
Yet, to give some allay
To this new fervor, 'twere good to remember
The King, whose eyes and ears are ev'ry where,
And what might follow a discovery.
Danger's a phantom, Madam! tho' the King
In our embraces stood a looker on,
His torturers too, with ready cruelty
To drag me from your arms, it should not fright me.
Pause yet a little—
The bounties of the King, and what weighs more,
Your boasted constancy to your matchless wife,
Should not too soon be shaken.
The whole fabric
When I but look on you, is in a moment
Overturn'd, and as flowing rivers lose
Their names, when by the ocean swallow'd,
In you alone all faculties of my soul
Are wholly taken up; my wife and King
Are nought but things forgotten.
Can this be possible? Fortune here I thank thee,
For my purpose now is gain'd!
[Aside.
Wherefore stay ye, Madam? why muse ye so?
To think how poor, an empty nothing
Is man's constancy!
Your beauties make it so
In me, sweet lady.
And 'tis my glory.
I could be coy now, as you were, but I
Am of a gentler temper. However,
In a just return of what I've suffer'd
In your disdain, with the same measure grant me
Equal deliberation. I, e'er long,
Will visit you again; and when I next
Appear, as conquer'd by it, slave-like wait
On my triumphant beauty!
[Exit.
What a change!
And what a frown she left at her departure!
I either way am lost! Contempt and scorn
Beset him close, who has not pow'r to be
Either base or virtuous; where'er I look
The tempest thickens, and hope disappears!
SCENE II.
Enter
SOPHIA.
Tho' all they have alledg'd prove true or false,
Their foul intent is levell'd against my honor,
And therefore I've resolv'd on ample vengeance,
Which shall be put in instant execution:
Who waits within? where are my noble guests?
Enter
HILLARIO
and
CORISCA.
The elder, Madam,
Is drinking by himself to your Ladyship's health,
In muskardine and eggs; and for a rasher
To 'tice his liquors down, he hath got a pye
Of marrow-bones, potatoes, and eringoes,
With many such ingredients; and 'tis said
He hath sent his man in post to the next town
For perfumes, plunder'd from the hunted civet!
And for the younger, such a fuss he makes
To prune and dress himself, as if this night
He were to play a bridegroom's part; but why,
I marvel much!
Are these same lodgings both prepar'd, and deck'd
As I directed.
To the tittle, Madam!
Then fail not in a circumstance therein
Set down, as you respect my future favor.
[Gives a paper; Hillario and Corisca retire to read it
Madam, here comes the frisky Lord Ubaldo.
Enter
UBALDO.
Pretty one, there's gold
[To Corisca.
To buy thee a new gown; and there's for thee,
[To Hillario.
Grow fat and fit for service—Now am I
At fortune's top most round, and able to
Beget a giant!
(Aside.)
O my better angel,
You now will shew your wisdom, when you pay
Your husband in his own coin; shall you sit
Like a patient Grizzle, to be laugh'd at? No,
This is a fair revenge, so quickly let's retire.
But fair and softly sweet, my Lord; for thus
Shall I neglect your friend, to whom, by promise,
I'm equally engag'd.
I must confess,
The more the merrier; but of all men living
Take heed of him! You may safer run upon
The mouth of a cannon when it's unloading!
I protest I do not understand you.
I'll then expound it for your good; he is
Nought but a scurvy fish at best; the tub's
His weekly bath; he hath not drank for years
But sasafras and guiacum; and dry mutton's
His daily portion!
Bless me from him!
'Tis a good pray'r, sweet Lady; for
If my tongue burn not when I name Ricardo,
Gibbet me!
Your caution I'll reward.
I do expect as much; sweet, all perfection,
I think I've marr'd his market, come what may;
[Aside.
—But when?
Why, presently; follow my woman,
She knows where to conduct you, and will serve
You for a page to-night.—Be it your care
To minister at his toilet, and that with speed;
[To Corisca.
Delay takes from delight; a nectar posset
See be quickly brought into his chamber!
Excellent Lady!—and a caudle too
I'th' morning, if so it please you.
I will
Provide for you, my Lord, depend upon't.
Enter
UBALDO,
and
CORISCA.
How closely they pursue me! for here comes
The other beagle.
Enter
RICARDO.
Take purse and all!
[Ricardo gives his purse to Hillario.
Would this good company but often come,
I might make a pretty term on't—I doubt
Whether the fare these dolts have this way bought,
Will prove a gainful purchase.
For your sake,
I've put him off; he only begg'd a kiss,
And so we parted.
He did not touch your lip?
Why sure there was no danger in the touch?
No? Quickly eat these scented lozenges,
Of forty crowns an ounce, or you're undone?
Wherefore? what can be th' virtue of 'em?
I am compell'd to use 'em in abundance,
E'en when I talk with him, or else be poisoned:
But I'll be free with you—he was once a creature,
It may be of Heaven's making, but long since
He is turn'd to a druggist's shop: the Spring and Fall
Hold all the year with him: that he
lives,
he owes
To Art, not Nature; she has giv'n him o'er;
He moves like the fairy king, on screws and wheels
Made by his doctor's recipe, and yet still
They're out of joint, and each day want repairing:—
In a frosty morning,
You may thrust him in a pottle pot; his bones
Rattle in his skin like beans toss'd in a bladder;
If he but hear a coach, fumigation cannot save him
From the chin evil. In a word, he is
Not one disease, but all; but being my friend,
I would forbear his character, as I would not
Wrong him in your good opinion.
The virtues you bestow on him, to me
Are mysteries I know not—however,
Since my partiality for you in vain
I would conceal—this sigh declares me your's.
Poor—blind
Ubaldo!
He must take the maid.
Hillario!—be it your immediate care
To uncloath the gentleman, and quickly
See that you robe him in the sattin vest,
And lay the perfum'd night-cap on his pillow.
Good: and for thy true and trusty service,
This cloak, this sword, and doublet, all are thine,
When I the anti-chamber quit.—
I take
Your word, sweet Sir.
Dear Lady, stay not long.
Expect me soon.
This is the way, sweet Sir.
[
Exeunt
HILLARIO
and
RICARDO.
I was much to blame to credit their reports
Touching my Lord! who so traduce each other,
And with such virulence; tho' I presume
They both are base enough; and yet I hope,
The means I have devis'd will shortly lead
To their recovery.
[Exit.
SCENE III.
A miserable Lodging-room.
Enter
UBALDO,
in his flannel Waistcoat.
What dost thou mean wench?
Why dost thou shut the door upon me? Ha!
My cloaths are ta'en away too! must I starve?
Is this my lodging? I'm sure the Lady talk'd
Of sacks and possets, and a courtly chamber:
But rain water pelting thro' the lattice,
A torn petticoat to shroud this pallet,
And an old woman's biggen for a night-cap,
Are all the comforts they've doom'd me to!
Slight! 'tis either a pig-stye, or a prison!
The windows are double barr'd with iron;
And if I could leap down, my neck were snapt.
I am betray'd! Rogues! Villains! let me out;
I am a Lord by the King's courtesy!
—Ah, that won't do—that title's now too common!
[Exit.
SCENE IV.
Another miserable Room, into which there is a Casement from
UBALDO
's.
RICARDO
discovered rising on his Hands, and Knees.
Zounds! have you trap-doors, thro' which you like
To tumble men, three stories at a time.
Stories? ay, waggishly told, no doubt,
At poor Ubaldo's cost.
[Looks thro' the window.
Who makes that noise there? help, if you be man.
I know not if I'm man or no!—Besides,
I'm where I cannot help myself, and yet
I fain would see your visage—Ubaldo!
Oh! then thou hast chous'd thy friend, and fortune's smiles
Upon thee; thou'st brib'd that wanton lacquey
To throw me thus in durance vile; while thou
Hath stolen into the perfum'd robes, and gain'd
The costly vestments she design'd for me.
Yes, truly, and in their bounty somewhat more!
An upper blanket, which thou well can'st spare,
Kick'd from thy wanton chamber, would befriend
Me much in this extremity.
A what Ricardo?—thou art mad!
Why, hast thou not
My scented night cap, and my sattin vest?
Who, I? Bare as a winter robin-red-breast
Have they stript me! Prithee throw me
Thy cloak to cover me, for I m almost
Frozen to death.
My cloak! I've none left:
I'm strip't as bare as thou; and in return
They've given me, I see, the fool's cast suit.
O then we're both undone! lend me thy hand, and roar
A little with me for some friendly succour.
[Comes thro' the window to Ricardo.
Lady of the house!
Grooms of the chamber!
Gentlemen, milk-maids!
Would you thus slay a pair of courtly Lords?
Enter
HILLARIO
in
RICARDO
's cloaths.
Hey day! not said your pray'rs, and gone to sleep?
Enter
SOPHIA, CORISCA,
Servants with lights.
What, sweet hostess, must we be murder'd?
No, but soundly punish'd for your desert.
Your'e not in earnest, I presume fair dame?
Judge as you find and feel; and now attend
To what I do irrevocably purpose:—
Forgetful of all hospitable duties,
You, with the defamation of my Lord,
Would fain have wrought upon my woman's weakness,
To yield my honour to your lawless sports!
Mark that, I pray, my wanton masters!
In doing this (I blush while I relate it!)
You have transgress'd against the dignity
Of man; who's bound by virtue to defend,
And not to violate fair female chastity!
But in the toils ye set, you're caught yourselves;
And therefore, do not hope to find from me,
The common sentence for offending man.
Such usage you have forfeited; therefore,
Like the most slavish of your sex, shall you be treated.
How do you mean to use us?
Ease and excess of feeding, made you wanton:
A pleurisy of ill blood you must let out:
By labour and spare diet refill your veins,
Or perish with hunger. Bring here a distaff;
Tho' no Omphale, or I do mistake it,
Nor you a second Hercules: fetch it.
[Exit Servant.
As you spin well at my command, and please me,
Your wages in the coarsest bread and water
Shall be proportionably encreased.
I'll starve first!
That's as your Lordship pleases.
I marvel!
What will be the destiny of poor Ricardo?
You shall have gentler work. I've oft observ'd
You proud to shew the fineness of your hand,
And softness of your fingers: you shall reel
What he doth spin: deliver their materials.
Now that you know your penance, fall to work,
Hunger will teach you to subdue your passions.
[
Exit
SOPHIA
and Servants.
I shall spin a fine thread here;
I cannot look
Upon such devices, but they'll put me in mind
Of rope-makers.
A good conceit truly,
For if you are industrious enough,
You'll just spin rope enough to hang you both,
Against my master does return from camp
To pass this honorable sentence on you!
Let me have my cloaths again, I pr'ythee;
I was bountiful unto thee.
Oh, fie!
Forget such vanities; my livery there
Will serve you well enough to work in;
Besides, they're past the wearing of a Lord;
Nay, mine by promise, you yourself do know
You have no holidays coming, nor will I work
While these and this
(purse)
lasts, and so, if you please,
Shut up your shop, and take yourselves to rest.
[
Scene closes on
UBALDO
and
RICARDO.
[
Exit
HILLARIO.
SCENE IV.
Enter
LADISLAUS, HONORIA, EUBULUS, FERDINAND, &c.
Now, you know all, Sir, with the motives why
I forc'd him to my apartment; therefore
I do presume, you doubt not now my honour.
I would not, though the whimsy was a strange one.
There was no danger in't; you must conceive, Sir,
Being religious, she chose him for a chaplain,
To read old homilies to her i'th' dark;
She's bound to it by her canons.
Still tormented
With thy impertinence!
By yourself, dear Sir;
I was ambitious only to overthrow
His boasted constancy in his consent;
But for fact, I contemn him; I was never
Unchaste in thought; I labour'd to give proof
What pow'r dwells in this beauty you admire so,
And when you see how soon it hath transform'd him,
As strait you shall,
And with what superstition he adores it,
Determine as you please.
[Exit
Well, I'll observe the issue.
How had
you
took this, General, in
your
wife.
As a strange curiosity, but Queens
Are privileg'd 'bove subjects, and 'tis fit.
[Exeunt.
SCENE V.
Enter
EUGENIUS
and
BAPTISTA.
I'm glad you're so convinc'd, for she is true,
Or art and Nature both are leagued against us.
Fool that I was to doubt—I know she's constant,
And in my loving ne'er look'd so fair.
[Looks at the picture.
In short, Baptista, I've a vision seen
This morning, makes it plain; I never was
In such security as at this instant.
As soon as the Queen appears
Observe th' encounter.
Enter
HONORIA, EUBULUS, LADISLAUS, FERDINAND,
and Attendants behind.
She is already
Enter'd the lists.
And I prepar'd to meet her.
I know my duty.
[Going.
Not so; you may stay now
As a witness of our contract.
I obey
In all things, Madam.
Where's that reverence
Or rather superstitious adoration
Which, captive-like, to my triumphant beauty
You paid last night? No humble knee! nor sign
Of vassal duty? then you freely swore
Your certain loss of life, in the King's anger,
Was far too mean a price to buy my favor;
And, that false glow-worm fire of constancy
To your wife, extinguish'd by a brighter light
Shot from our eyes.
I do remember.
I once saw such a woman.
Ha!
And then
She did appear a most magnificent Queen;
And what's more, virtuous, tho' somewhat shaded
With pride and self opinion.
Call you this courtship?
And she was happy in a royal husband,
Whom envy could not tax, unless it were
For his too much indulgence to her humour.
Pray, Sir, observe that touch, 'tis to the purpose.
You yet retain
Some part of her angelic form, but when
Envy to the beauty of another woman
(One she had never seen but in this picture)
Had spread infection thro' her veins.
I like not this!
[Aside.
Desire in all th' enticements it could steal
From majesty, however disguis'd, had took
Sure footing in the kingdom of her heart,
Once the throne of chastity—how in a moment
All that was gracious, great, and glorious,
Like seeming shadows wanting real substance,
Vanish'd.
How his reasoning works upon me.
Retire into yourself, fair Queen;
There, your own breast is strongly nerv'd by virtue,
Be but as you
were;
and there is no office
So low to which a man may stoop,
But I will gladly bow to.
But as you play and juggle with a stranger,
Varying your shapes like
Thetis,
tho' beauties,
Such as are by poet's raptures painted,
Were all in you united, you would pass
Pity'd, perhaps, but not by one regarded!
I'm disenchanted;
And ever, from this moment, shall despise
The flatterers who've deceiv'd me.
I'm charm'd
With what I've seen and heard!
[They come forward.
How have I wander'd
Out of the track of honour; and mislead
By the o'erweening pride and flattery
Of fawning sycophants,
Could never meet till now a passenger
That in his charity would
Stay me in my precipice to ruin.
How ill (when you know all)
Have I return'd your goodness to me,
The horror in my thoughts oft turns me marble;
What can I do to shew my deep contrition?
[Kneels to the King.
Pray you rise.
Never, till you have forgiv'n and receiv'd
Unto your love and favour, a chang'd woman:
My state and pride turn'd to humility,
Henceforth shall wait on your commands.
All is forgot, and this fair change shall prove
A second and a happier union to us!
Why did you make me rise, my loving Lord,
Till with a free confession of a crime,
Unknown as yet to you, I ask'd a suit!
Whate'er it be, my lips do thus confirm it.
[Kisses her hand.
Know then, in envy of this good man's wife,
I did suborn those ready courtly slaves,
Ubaldo and Ricardo, to corrupt her.
I marvell'd if the mischief were all out.
How far I have prevail'd, I'm ignorant:
But my request, good Sir, in fine, is this,
That you, for th' honour of this gallant knight,
Would let us travel thither, the journey
Being but short, to call them home.
This hour
We will put on.
I, if you please, your royal harbinger.
[Exit.
And I your faithful follower.
I thank you:
Let me infold you in my arms; your service
'Gainst the Turk, compar'd with this, weighs nothing.
I am still your humble soldier.
My true friend.
And so you're bound to hold him.
Such a plant,
Imported to your kingdom, and here grafted,
Wou'd yield more fruit than all the idle weeds
That suck up your reign of favour.
In my will
I'll not be wanting:—prepare for our journey.
Hence to the winds all doubts and jealous fears,
For now
Honoria
like herself appears!
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
EUGENIUS
's Castle.
Enter
SOPHIA, CORISCA,
and
HILLARIO.
ARE they then so humble?
Hunger and hard labour
Have tamed 'em, Madam;—at first they bellow'd
Like stags ta'en in a toil, and would not work
For sullenness.
I do remember that they stopp'd their noses
At the fight of beef and mutton, as coarse feeding
For their fine palates; but now, their work being ended,
They leap at a barley crust, and hold cheese-parings,
With a spoonful of pall'd wine pour'd in their water,
For festival dainties.
When I examine
My spinster's work, he trembles like a 'prentice,
And takes a box on the ear, when I spy faults
And botches in his labour, as a favour
From an angry mistress.
The other too reels well
For his time; and if your Ladyship would please
To see 'em, they'd much delight you
With their hungry dialogues—
But should they grow rebellious in their prison
When we enter?
Ne'er fear't: I'll undertake
To lead them out by th' nose, with a coarse thread
Of the one's spinning, and make the other
Reel after, without grumbling.
Dear Madam,
'Twill help to drive away your melancholy.
And so they've voluntarily confess'd,
That by the Queen they're sent to taint me, in
My loyalty to my Lord?
'Twas the main cause
That brought 'em hither.—
I'm glad I know it,
For at the height I'll therefore be reveng'd.
Enter
SERVANT.
This instant, Madam,
Signior Baptista 'lighting from his horse,
Has brought assurance of my Lord's return.
How! and do I stand trifling here? away!
—See that those pamper'd lordlings are secur'd,
And wait my further orders.—
[To Hillario.
[
Exit
SOPHIA.
SCENE II.
UBALDO
and
RICARDO
sitting melancholy on wooden stools.
A DIALOGUE DUET.
I.
Alack!
Oh dear!
How base!
How queer!
Peers mighty thus to treat.
[heigh-ho!
I'll storm—
I'll roar—
Zounds! ope the door!
—In vain we lambkins bleat!
[heigh-ho!
II.
Though plot,
Nor love,
Your heart could move,
Ah! mitigate your cruel, cruel sentence
[oh!
Since Lords,
A pair,
From
stately chair,
Are humbled to the
stool of repentance!
oh!
Heigh-ho!
I can return you sigh for sigh, Ubaldo.
(Thanks to their spare, and windy dieting!)
Oh! what a stain on our nobility!
So I grant; and yet, methinks, it will rub out
As soon as some that I could name—but hark,
Our keeper enters; we must work or starve.
Enter
HILLARIO
and
CORISCA.
Come, work away, my noble masters, and
Lose no time, 'tis precious with handicrafts;
You'll find it in your commons.
Commons call you it?
The word is proper; I myself have graz'd
But four and twenty hours upon your commons,
And you may see through me!
How would you like an airing out abroad,
Would it not be a favour?
If you'll be
An honest yeoman phewterer, feed us first,
And walk us after.
Yeoman phewterer?
Such another word to your governor, and you go
Supperless to bed for't!
Nay, even as you please.
The comfortable names of breakfast, dinner,
Collations, supper, beverage, are words
Worn out of remembrance.
O for the steam
Of meat in a cook's shop!
O that I ever saw this beauteous fury!
Or look'd on women but as fiery meteors!
Silence, ye courtly manufacturers;
No more of this!
Methinks you have no cause
To repent your being here!
Have you not learnt,
When your 'states are spent, a trade to live by,
And never charge the workhouse?
Work but tightly,
And we will not use a napkin in the house
But of your spinning.
I would this hemp
Were turn'd to a halter!
You see, my masters, what
Cross-grain'd stuff they now and then
Make Lords of, since you two cut down
To so little profit!—Come, will
You march?
A soft one, good general, I do beseech you.
Let it be to slow time, gallant commander,
For my poor legs reluctantly do follow
Their weary master.
Yet, how strange to tell,
Last night when fancy pip'd the march of Love,
They to the perfum'd chamber quickly frisk'd it;
But come, no thought of extacy, that's past:
In;—and there pray against temptation!
[Shuts them into an Inner Chamber, and Exit.
SCENE III.
Enter
SOPHIA
and
BAPTISTA.
Whether I am most surpriz'd or charm'd, I know not;
And shall I see this Queen whose beauty could not shake him?
Ere this, their Majesties are at your gate.
But how that flatt'ring portrait did you gain,
With which you've wrought so bright a miracle!
I had it sketch'd from that bright miniature
Which decks the centre of your brother's shield:
But you'll excuse the theft that friendship urg'd.
My friendship shall repay it; but 'tis fit
This jealousy should have a final check,
And that, where least he looks for't, ev'n from
me!
Suppose I use the happy means I have
T' expose his wound, and thus compleat his cure?
'Twere well, if you have art t' atchieve it.
That trumpet speaks them near: lay still my heart,
While I but feign this momentary coolness,
And then, with double transport, thou shalt greet him!
[
Exit
SOPHIA
and
BAPTISTA.
SCENE IV.
Another apartment. (Loud music.)
Enter
LADISLAUS, EUGENIUS, EUBULUS, FERDINAND, HONORIA,
and Attendants.
Not
Jove
attended on by
Hermes,
was
More welcome to the cottage of
Philemon,
And his poor
Baucis,
than your gracious self,
Your matchless Queen, and all your train,
Are to your servant and his wife.
Where is she?
I long to see her, as my now great rival.
And I to have a smack at her—'tis a cordial
To an old man, better than sack and toast,
Before he goes to supper.
Ha! my house thus turn'd
To a wilderness? no wife nor servants ready,
With all rites due to majesty, to receive
Such unexpected blessings?
You assured me
[
Enter
BAPTISTA.
Of better preparation: hath not
Th' excess of joy transported her beyond
Her understanding?
Just now parting from her,
I gave her your directions.
How shall I crave
Your Majesty's patience? sure my house are mad,
Or by some fiend in envy of my glory,
A deadly lethargy is thus thrown o'er 'em.
Enter
HILLARIO
with Servants.
But that the presence of the King forbids it.
This sword should make a massacre among ye—
Where's your mistriss?
First, you are welcome from the wars, good Sir!
Then know, she says she's sick; but as for that
Whether she feign or no—you must enquire
Of students vers'd in female constitutions!
No notice ta'en of my sine cloaths!
(Aside
It cannot be; tho' she were on her death-bed,
And her spirit e'en just departing, here stand they,
Could call it back again, and in this honor
Give it a second being! bring me to her—
I know not what to urge, my gracious Leige,
For this wild conduct.—
[
Exit
EUGENIUS, HILLARIO,
and Servants.
There's no climate
In the world, I think, where one jade's trick or other
Reigns not in woman!
You were ever bitter
Against the sex, my Lord.
This is very strange!
Inferior women
Have their faults as well as Queens.
O, now she appears.
Enter
EUGENIUS, SOPHIA,
and
CORISCA.
The injury you conceive I have done you
Dispute hereafter, and in your perverseness,
Wrong not yourself and me.
[
Apart to
SOPHIA.
I am past my childhood
And need no tutor.
This is the King,
To whom I am engag'd 'till death, for all
I stand possest of.
My humble roof is proud, Sir,
To be the canopy of so much greatness.—
My own praises rising
In such pure air as your sweet breath, fair Lady,
Cannot but please me.
In my duty,
I kiss her Highness' robe!
You stoop too low
To her, whose lip would meet with yours.
However
It may appear prepost'rous in women
So to encounter, 'tis your pleasure, Madam,
And not my proud ambition:—do you hear, Sir?
[To Eugenius.
Without a
Magic Picture
in the touch,
I find your print of wanton kisses
On the Queen's lips!
Upon your life be silent!—
And now salute these Lords.
Since you'll have me,
You shall see I'm experienc'd in the art,
And can play it freely!
(To Ferdinand.)
You are a brave man, Sir,
And do deserve a free and hearty welcome:
Be this the prologue to it.
An old man's turn
Is ever last in kissing—I have lips too,
However cold ones, Madam!
I will warm 'em
With the fire of mine!
And so she has!—I thank you.
I shall sleep the better all night for't.
You express
The boldness of a wanton courtezan,
And not a matron's modesty; take up,
Or you're undone for ever!
How! Is that
The Queen so careful of me in your absence?
—She knew how tedious 'twas for a young wife,
To pass away her melancholy hours
Without good company; so cull'd me out
Two sprightly Lords from her own courtly store
To do me all good offices: as such,
Employ'd by her, I hope I have receiv'd
And entertain'd them; nor will they depart
Without th' effect, arising from the cause
That brought 'em hither.
Monstrous impudence!
I beg your Royal pardon
While I go out, and bring those to your presence
Who shall attest what I have said.
[
Exit
SOPHIA
and Attendants.
How now! turn'd statue, Sir?
Fly, quickly fly
From this curst habitation, or yon gorgon
Will make you all as I am; on her tongue
Millions of adders hiss, and every hair
Upon her wicked head's a snake more dreadful!
These are the fruits
Of marriage! an old Bachelor, as I am,
And will continue so, is not troubled
With these vagaries.
It suits not with your fortitude,
To let your passion thus transport you.
[
To
EUG.
Reflect, that you were once deceiv'd in me.
Hath she not all confess'd, and vilely fled
To fetch her pamper'd paramours,
Deck'd out in triumph o'er my soul disgrace?
See where they come! but this shall—
[EUGENIUS
draws his sword; but starts back on the nearer approach of
SOPHIA,
who leads down
UBALDO,
and
RICARDO,
attended by
HILLARIO
and
CORISCA.
How's this! more mysteries in store?
What have we here!
You must come on and shew yourselves.
The King.
And Queen too!
I remember
This face, when it was in a better plight:
Are not you Ricardo?
I was once so, please
Your Grace.
And this thing, I take it
Was once Ubaldo!
I am now I know not what.
We thank your Majesty for employing us
To this subtle Circe!
You see, Madam,
How I have cur'd your servants; and what favors
They with their gallantry have won from me!
You may, as they are physic'd, I presume,
Now safely trust them; they have learnt, besides,
Their several trades to live by, and paid nothing
But cold and hunger for them, and may now
Set up for themselves; for here I give them over.
Then hang all trades!
I'll find a new one; that is, to live honest.
[Exeunt Ubaldo and Ricardo.
I am sorry for this general gaol delivery;
These are my fees, however, so I'm content.
[Exit, strutting in his fine cloaths.
As for you, Sir!—
[To Eugenius.
Which way shall I intreat you?
I am not worthy of it; my Sophia!
My best Sophia! here, before the King,
The Queen, these Lords, and all surrounding us,
I do renounce my error, and embrace you
As the great example to all after times,
With reverence to imitate.
Not so, Sir!
I still hold off, although I here have clear'd
My doubtful innocence.
When you went to the wars,
I set no spy upon you, to observe
Which way you wander'd, though our sex, by nature,
Is subject to suspicions; for I fix'd
My confidence on your try'd loyalty:
But to deal as you did, 'gainst your reason,
With magic nonsense to survey my actions,
Was more than woman's weakness: therefore know,
And 'tis my boon unto the King, I do
Desire a separation from your bed;
For I will spend the remnant of my life
In pray'r, and meditation!
O take pity
Upon my weak condition, or I am
More wretched in your innocence, than if
I had found you guilty. Have you shewn a jewel
Out of the cabinet of your rich mind
To lock it up again?—She turns away—
Will none speak for me? Shame hath robb'd me
Of the use of utterance!
Since you have conquer'd, Madam,
You wrong the glory of your victory,
If you use it not with mercy.
Have I liv'd to see
But one good woman, and shall we for a trifle
Have
her
turn nun! I'll first pull down the cloysters!
—'Tis not enough, sweet Dame, that you are good,
We must have some o' th' breed!
Shew me but two such more,
I'll love myself, and, may be—marry!
She that yet
Ne'er knew what 'twas to bend but to the King,
Thus begs remission for him.
O dear Madam,
Wrong not your greatness so.
We are all suitors!
I perceive
There's no resisting your entreaties,—since
My own fond heart demands his restoration!
But should I pardon what's already past,
Who can secure me that he will be free
From hideous Jealousy hereafter?
I
Will be mine own security!—Go ride,—
Feast,—revel,—banquet,—and with whom you please.
I'll set no watch upon you; and from hence,
(Blushing to think how passion has misled me)
This cheating semblance of thy beauteous self
I throw away,
And only bow to nature, and to thee!
[
He tears the Picture from his n
k, and kneels to
SOPHIA.
If from her sov'reignty you ne'er had swerv'd,
No stratagem of mine had been devis'd
To practice aught on your credulity.—
Blind as I was—
But since it lur'd you from that fatal gulph
To which suspicion blindly leads her train,
I do applaud me for the deed.
And I
My plaudits join; for now my mind's at ease,
And every soft idea bids him welcome!
Within, great Prince, our humble board is spread,
And waits the honor'd sanction of your presence.
We will attend you:—Your hand, fair hostess,
Unless it feed the good man's jealousy!
Oh, no, my liege!—his tyrant reign's dissolv'd.
For now our mutual confidence shall prove,
The guardian-knot, to bind our future LOVE!
FINIS.