THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES THE WORKS OF JOHN FORD. LONDON : ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, \.W. THE WORKS OF JOHN FORD, WITH NOTES CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY BY WILLIAM GIFFORD, Esq. A NEW EDITION, CAREFULLY REVISED, WITH ADDITIONS TO THE TEXT AND TO THE NOTES BY TRE REV. ALEXANDER DYCE. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON : JAMES TOOVEY, 177 PICCADILLY. 1869. CONTENTS OF VOL. 11. PAGE LOVE'S SACRIFICE t PERKIN WARBECK 109 THE FANCIES CHASTE AND NOBLE . . ; . 219 8S2934 '/ LOVE'S SACRIFICE. VOL. II. I, I cannot ascertain when this tragedy was first given to the stage ; but it was printed in the same year as The Broken Heart. The old title is ' ' Loiies Sacrifice. A tragedie Receiued generally well. Acted by the Queenes Majesties Seiuants at the Phoenix in Drury-lane. London: Printed by I. B. for Hvgh Beeston, dwelling ne.xt the Castle in Cornhill. 1633." 4to. It has neither prologue nor epi- logue. TO MY TRUEST FRIEND, MY WORTHIEST KINSMAN, JOHN FORD, OF GRAY'S INN, Esq. The title of this little work, my good cousin, is in sense but the argument of a dedication f- which being in most writers a custom, in many a compliment, I question not but your clear knowledge of my intents will, in me, read as the earnest of affection. My am- bition herein aims at a fair flight, borne up on the double wings of gratitude for a received, and acknow- ledgment for a continued love. It is not so frequent to number many kinsmen, and amongst them some friends, as to presume on some friends, and amongst them little friendship. But in every fulness of these particulars I do not more partake through you, my cousin, the delight than enjoy the benefit of them. This inscription to your name is only a faithful de- liverance to memory of the truth of my respects to 1 T/ic title of this little work, my good cousin, is in sense but the argument of a dedication;'] i.e. Love's Sacrifice. The affection between the cousins appears to be mutual; for, on the appearance oi Perkin IVarbeck, this gentleman returned the compliment with an introductory copy of verses, which are neither the best nor the worst called forth by that drama. 4 DEDICATION. virtue, and to the equal in honour with virtue, desert. The contempt thrown on studies of this kind by such as dote on their own singularity^ hath almost so out- faced invention and proscribed'^ judgment, that it is more safe, more wise, to be suspectedly silent than modestly confident of opinion herein. Let me be bold to tell the severity of censurers how willingly I neglect their practice, so long as I digress from no becoming thankfulness. Accept, then, my cousin, this witness to posterity of my constancy to your merits ; for no ties of blood, no engagements of friendship, shall more justly live a precedent than the sincerity of both in the heart of John Ford. 2 Here is an allusion to Prynne, who is also noticed by Shirley in the complimentary verses prefixed to this play. That restless " paper worm," as Needham calls him, had the year before produced his Histriomastix, or Actor s Tragedy, to the sore annoyance of the stage ; and was at this time before the Star-Chamber for the scur- rilous and libellous language in that "voluminous" farrago of puri- tanic rancour. — There is a quaintness in the style of this little piece; but the frank and grateful tone of affection which it displays is truly pleasing. It is not his dramatic powers that Ford is solicitous to assert ; but his respect to virtue and desert, and his boldness to avow and praise them in a dear relation. '^proscribed'] The 4to has " prescrib'd." D. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Philippo Caraffa, duke of Pavy. Paulo Baglione, uncle to the duchess. Fernando, favourite to the duke. Ferentes, a wanton courtier. ROSEILLI, a young nobleman. Petruchio, I (• two counsellors of state. Nibrassa, ; RoDERico d'Avolos, Secretary to the duke. Mauruccio, an old antic. Giacopo, servant to Mauruccio. BiANCA, the duchess. FiORMONDA, the duke's sister. COLONA, daughter to Petruchio. Julia, daughter to Nibrassa. MORONA, an old lady. Attendants, Courtiers, Officers, &c. Scene — Pavy (Pavia). LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT I. Scene I. A room in the palace. Enter Roseilli and Roderico d'Avolos. Ros. Depart the court ? UAv. Such was the duke's command. Ros. You're secretary to the state and him, Great in his counsels, wise, and, I think, honest : Have you, in turning over old records, Read but one name descended of the house Of Lesui^ in his loyalty remiss ? UAv. Never, my lord. Ros. Why, then, should I now, now when glorious peace Triumphs in change of pleasures, be wip'd off. Like to a useless moth, from courtly ease ? — And whither must I go ? UAv. You have the open world before you. Ros. Why, then 'tis like I'm banish'd ? DAv. Not so : my warrant is only to command 1 Of Lcsiii'] Lesi/s, or Leliis, would be just as near to the traces of the original. As the "records" of this illustrious house have never fallen in my way, I cannot pretend to say which is the genuine word. The text is evidently a misprint. 8 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act i. you from the court; within five hours to depart after notice taken, and not to Hve within thirty miles of it, until it be thought meet by his excellence to call you back. Now I have warned you, my lord, at your peril be it, if you disobey. I shall inform the duke of your discontent. [Exif. jRoss. Do, politician, do ! I scent the plot Of this disgrace ; 'tis Fiormonda, she," That glorious widow, whose commanding check Ruins my love :' like foolish beasts, thus they Find danger that prey too near the lions' den. E7ifer Fernando and Petruchio, Fern. My noble lord, Roseilli ! Ros. Sir, the joy I should have welcom'd you with is wrapt up In clouds of my disgrace ; yet, honour'd sir, Howsoe'er frowns of great ones cast me down, My service shall pay tribute in my lowness To your uprising virtues. Fern. Sir, I know You are so well acquainted with your own, You need not flatter mine : trust me, my lord, I'll be a suitor for you. Pet And I'll second My nephew's suit with importunity. Ros. You are, my Lord Fernando, late return'd From travels ; pray instruct me : — since the voice Of most supreme authority commands 2 'tis Fiormoridii, she,\ Ford, as has been already observed, es- capes no better than his contemporaries from Italian names. " Fior- monda" is here a quadrisyllable. 3 Ruins my love, &c.] There is corruption here: a couplet would seem to have been intended by the author. Qy. "Ruins my love: like foolish hcasts, thus they Find danger that too near the lions prey"? D. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. g My absence, I determine to bestow Some time in learning languages abroad ; Perhaps the change of air may change in me Remembrance of my wrongs at home : good sir, Inform me ; say I meant to live in Spain, What benefit of knowledge might I treasure ? Fern. Troth, sir, I'll freely speak as I have found. In Spain you lose experience ; 'tis a climate Too hot to nourish arts f the nation proud. And in their pride unsociable ; the court More pliable to glorify itself Than do a stranger grace : if you intend To traffic like a merchant, 'twere a place Might better much your trade ; but as for me, I soon took surfeit on it. Ros. What for France ? Fern. France I more praise and love.^ You are, my lord, * Femando's character of the Spanish nation is somewhat tinc- tured with severity; yet not unjust in the main. James had, with much pohtical foresight and some success, strove to cuUivate the friendship of Spain ; but the culpable capriciousness of Charles, ag- gravated by the ruffian insolence of Buckingham, abruptly checked his endeavours, and by rendering the Spanish party unpopular, as well as unfashionable at court, occasioned a fatal reaction in politics, which in no long process of time threw that country and its resources into the arms of France, to be constantly directed against us. Ford seems to be indebted to Howell for a part of his description. 5 France I more praise and love, &c.] Here again we have the prevailing language of the day ; though it must be admitted that Ford (with some assistance from Massinger) has selected his traits of character with impartiality and judgment. The excellence of the French in horsemanship is noticed by most of our old writers. Thus, the King in Hamlet ; " I have seen myself and serv'd against the French, And they can well on horseback ; but this gallant Had witchcraft in't, he grew unto his seat," &c. And in The White Devil [by Webster] ; " Hee told mee of a restie Barbarie horse Which he would faine haue brought to the carreere. The sault, and the ring-galliard : now, my lord, I haue a rare French rider." There is more of this in the same play ; but enough on so trite a lO LOVE'S SACRIFICK. ACT i. Yourself for horsemanship much fam'd ; and there You shall have many proofs to show your skill. The French are passing courtly, ripe of wit, Kind, but extreme dissemblers ; you shall have A Frenchman ducking lower than your knee, At th' instant mocking even your very shoe-ties. To give the country due, it is on earth A paradise ; and if you can neglect Your own appropriaments, but praising that In others wherein you excel yourself, You shall be much belov'd there. Ros. . Yet methought I heard you and the duchess, two nights since. Discoursing of an island thereabouts, Call'd — let me think — 'twas — Fern. England ? jRos. That : pray, sir — You have been there, methought I heard you praise it. Fern. I'll tell you what I found there ; men as neat, As courtly as the French, but in condition Quite opposite.*' Put case that you, my lord, Could be more rare on horseback than you are, If there — as there are many — one excell'd You in your art as much as you do others. Yet will the English think their own is nothing subject. It seems, indeed, that about this period the Enj^h'sh were surpassed by most nations in this noble art ; nor was it till James I. wisely encouraged horse-races, that we thought of improving the old heavy, short-winded breed of horses, by the introduction of Barbary and other stallions, and that the consequent improvement in man- aging them took place, which long since rendered us the most skilful and daring riders of Europe. 8 but in condition Quite opposite, &c.] i.e. in dispositiott. We have the word in the same sense in page 13, where Petruchio says of the Duchess that she is " right noble In her condition" {conditions. D.]. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. I j Compar'd with you, a stranger ; in their habits They are not more fantastic [t]han uncertain; In short, their fair abundance, manhood, beauty,'' No nation can disparage but itself. lios. My lord, you have much eas'd me ; I resolve. Fer?i. And whither are you bent ? ■^os. My lord, for travel ; To speed for England. ^(^>'fi- No, my lord, you must not : I have^ yet some private conference T' impart unto you for your good ; at night I'll meet you at my Lord Petruchio's house : Till then be secret. J^os. Dares my cousin trust me ?^ Fet. Dare I, my lord ! yes, 'less your fact were greater Than a bold woman's spleen. Jios. The duke's at hand. And I must hence : my service to your lordships. [^Exii. Fet. Now, nephew, as I told you, since the duke Hath held the reins of state in his own hand, Much alter'd from the man he was before, — ******** As if he were transformed in his mind,^" — 7 In short, their i&\r abundance, manhood, beauty, ^ The old copy reads " their/rz-t' abundance :" a slighter change would be to place a comma after "fare;" but the text as it now stands seems to me more in the author's manner. 8 I have] Qy. ''For I have"? D. 9 Dares my cousin trust me9'\ It does not appear what plan Fer- nando had formed to ser\'e Roseilli, who, like his friend, seems al- ready to have forgotten that he was ordered to leave the court that morning. ^" Here, or rather, perhaps, after the preceding verse, a line or more has dropt out at the press. The purport of the lost passage is easily collected from the context. The duke, since his accession, has drawn round him a set of profligate parasites, who, &c. It is scarcely necessary to observe that no part of the dukes conduct jus- 12 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act i. To soothe him in his pleasures, amongst whom Is fond Ferentes; one whose pride takes pride In nothing more than to dehght his lust ; And he — with grief I speak it — hath, I fear, Too much besotted my unhappy daughter. My poor Colona ; whom, for kindred's sake, As you are noble, as you honour virtue, Persuade to love herself: a word from you May win her more than my entreats^^ or frowns. Fern. Uncle, I'll do my best : meantime, pray tell me. Whose mediation wrought the marriage Betwixt the duke and duchess, — who was agent. Pet. His roving eye and her enchanting face, The only dower nature had ordain'd T' advance her to her bride-bed. She was daughter Unto a gentleman of Milan — no better — Preferr'd to serve i' th' Duke of Milan's court ; Where for her beauty she was greatly fam'd : And passing late from thence to Monaco, To visit there her uncle, Paul Baglione The abbot. Fortune — queen to such blind matches — Presents her to the duke's eye, on the way. As he pursues the deer : in short, my lord, He saw her, lov'd her, woo'd her, won her, match'd her ;i2 No counsel could divert him. Fern. She is fair. tifies the reproach here laid upon him ; he is rather a well-meaning dotard, a better Bassanes, than a follower of debauched society : but Ford seems to have lost his way through a great part of this drama. 11 ciitrcats\ The 4to has "entreaties." D. 1- in short, my lord, He saw her, lov'd her, &c.] The duke is "a thriving wooer." In (his rapid abstract of his success the poet seems to ha\c had another bold and fortunate adventurer in view ; " Mars videt hanc, visamque cupit, potiturcjue cupita." SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. I3 Pet. She is ; and, to speak truth, I think right noble In her conditions.^^ Fern. If, when I should choose, Beauty and virtue were the fee propos'd, I should not pass^* for parentage. Pet. The duke Doth come. Fern. Let's break-off talk. — \Aside\ If ever, now, Good angel of my soul, protect my truth ! Enter the Duke, Bianca, Fiormonda, Nibrassa, Ferentes, Julia, mid D'Avolos. Duke. Come, my Bianca, revel in mine arms ; Whiles I, wrapt in my admiration, view Lilies and roses growing in thy cheeks. — Fernando ! O, thou half myself ! no joy Could make my pleasures full without thy presence : I am a monarch of felicity, Proud in a pair of jewels, rich and beautiful, — A perfect friend, a wife above compare. Fern. Sir, if a man so low in rank may hope. By loyal duty and devoted zeal, To hold a correspondency^^ in friendship With one so mighty as the Duke of Pavy, My uttermost ambition is to climb To those deserts may give the style of servant. Duke. Of partner in my dukedom, in my heart, As freely as the privilege of blood Hath made them mine ; Philippo and Fernando Shall be without distinction. — Look, Bianca, On this good man ; in all respects to him Be as to me : only the name of husband, 13 conditions.^ See note, p. 10. D. 1* pass\ i. e. care. D. 15 correspondency] The 4to has "Correspondence." D. 14 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT i. And reverent observance of our bed, Shall differ us in persons, else in soul We are all one. Bian. I shall, in best of love, Regard the bosom-partner of my lord. Fior. [aside to Fer.] Ferentes, — Mt. [aside to FiorJ] Madam ? Fior. [aside to Fer.] You are one loves courtship : He hath^'^ some change of words, ^^ 'twere no lost la- bour To stuff your table-books ;^^ the man speaks wisely ! Fer. [aside to Fior.^ I'm glad your highness is so pleasant. Duke. Sister, — Fior. My lord and brother? Duke. You are too silent, Quicken your sad remembrance -P though the loss Of your dead husband be of more account Than slight neglect, yet 'tis a sin against The state of princes to exceed a mean In mourning for the dead. Fior. Should form, my lord, Prevail above affection ? no, it cannot. You have yourself here a right noble duchess, Virtuous at least ; and should your grace now pay — Which heaven forbid ! — the debt you owe to nature, I dare presume she'd not so soon forget A prince that thus advanc'd her. — Madam, could you? D'Av. [aside\ Bitter and shrewd. IB hath'] The 4to has "had." D. 1^ change n/uwrds,'] Is plenty of words, fluency of language. 1* To stuff your tablc-hooki ;\ i.e. to set down in your memoran- dum or pocket-book. She speaks ironically, and affects to cliarac- terise Fernando as a ready talker, a mere man of words. It is in this sense that Ferentes understands her. -'^ Quicken your sad remembrance:] i.e. Enliven your melan- choly recollections by the admission of pleasanter thotights. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 15 Bian. Sister, I should too much bewray my weak- ness, To give a resolution on a passion I never felt nor fear'd.-*' Nib. A modest answer. Fe7'n. If credit may be given to a face, My lord, I'll undertake on her behalf; Her words are trusty heralds to her mind. Fior. [aside to HAv^ Exceeding good ; the man will " undertake" ! Observe it, D'Avolos. UAv. [aside to Fior.'] Lady, I do ^-^ 'Tis a smooth praise. Duke. Friend, in thy judgment I approve thy love. And love thee better for thy judging mine. Though my gray-headed senate in the laws Of strict opinion and severe dispute Would tie the limits of our free affects,^- — Like superstitious Jews, — to match with none But in a tribe of princes like ourselves, Gross-nurtur'd slaves, who force their wretched souls To crouch to profit ; nay, for trash and wealth Dote on some crooked or misshapen form ; Hugging wise nature's lame deformity. Begetting creatures ugly as themselves : — But why should princes do so, that command The storehouse of the earth's hid minerals ? — -' / should too much bcioray my ivcakncss To give a resolution (to speak decisively) on a passion / never felt nor fear d.\ i.e. ingratitude. It is well answered ; " but she'll keep her word !" 21 Lady, I do ;'] The 4to has " I doe, Lady." D. ^ Would tie the limits of our free n.^ecls.,'] i. e. affections. So in The Case is Alter d [Jonson's Works, vol. vi. p. 345]; " Rachel, I hope I shall not need to urge The sacred purity of our affects." .And see Jonson, vol. ii. p. 281. [Here the 4to has "effects." D.] l6 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act i. No, my Bianca, thou'rt to me as dear As if thy portion had been Europe's riches ; Since in thine eyes lies more than these are worth. Set on ; they shall be strangers to my heart That envy thee thy fortunes. — Come, Fernando, My but divided self ; what we have done We are only deb[i]tor to heaven for. — On ! Fior. \asidc to D'A?:] Now take thy time, or never, D'Avolos; Prevail, and I will raise thee high in grace. UAv. \aside to Fior.'\ Madam, I will omit no art. \Exeunt all but DAv., 7a/io recals Fern. My honour'd Lord Fernando ! FerJi. To me, sir ? UAv. Let me beseech your lordship to excuse me, in the nobleness of your wisdom, if I exceed good manners : I am one, my lord, who in the admiration of your perfect virtues do so truly honour and rever- ence your deserts, that there is not a creature bears life shall more faithfully study to do you service in all offices of duty and vows of due respect. Fern. Good sir, you bind me to you : is this all ? UAv. I beseech your ear a little; good my lord, what I have to speak concerns your reputation and best fortune. Fern. How's that ! my reputation ? lay aside Superfluous ceremony ; speak ; what is't ? UAv. I do repute myself the blessedest man alive, that I shall be the first gives yoiwx lordship news of your perpetual comfort. Fern. As how ? UAv. If singular beauty, unimitable virtues, hon- our, youth, and absolute goodness be a fortune, all those are at once offered to your particular choice. Fern. Without delays, which way? SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 17 lyAv. The great and gracious Lady Fiormonda love[s] you, infinitely loves you. — But, my lord, as ever you tendered a servant to your pleasures, let me not be revealed that I gave you notice on't. Fern. Sure, you are strangely out of tune, sir. DAv. Please but to speak to her; be but courtly- ceremonious with her, use once but the language of affection, if I misreport aught besides my knowledge, let me never have place in your good opinion. O, these women, my lord, are as brittle metal as your glasses, as smooth, as slippery, — their very first sub- stance was quicksands -P let 'em look never so de- murely, one fillip chokes them. My lord, she loves you ; I know it. — But I beseech your lordship not to discover me; I would not for the world she should know that you know it by me. Fern. I understand you, and to thank your care Will study to requite it ; and I vow She never shall have notice of your news By me or by my means. And, worthy sir, Let me alike enjoin you not to speak A word of that I understand her love ; And as for me, my word shall be your surety I'll not as much as give her cause to think I ever heard it. D'Av. Nay, my lord, whatsoever I infer, you may break with her in it, if you please ; for, rather than silence should hinder you one step to such a fortune, I will expose myself to any rebuke for your sake, my good lord. Fern. You shall not indeed, sir ; I am still your friend, and will prove so. For the present I am forced 23 their very first substance was quicksands :] This is said in allu- sion to the traditionary stories of the first discovery of glass by the Phoenician mariners in consequence of their lighting a fire on the sand. VOL. II. C l8 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT i. to attend the duke : good hours befall ye ! I must leave you. [Exit. UAv. Gone already ? 'sfoot, I ha' marred all ! this is worse and worse ; he's as cold as hemlock. If her highness knows how I have gone to work, she'll thank me scurvily : a pox of all dull brains ! I took the clean contrary course. There is a mystery in this slight carelessness of his ; I must sift it, and I will find it. Ud's me, fool myself out of my wit ! well, I'll choose some fitter opportunity to inveigle him, and till then smooth her up that he is a man overjoyed with the report. \Exit. Scene II. Another room in the same. E7ifer Ferentes and Colona. Fer. Madam, by this light I vow myself your ser- vant ; only yours, inespecially yours. Time, like a turncoat, may order and disorder the outward fashions of our bodies, but shall never enforce a change on the constancy of my mind. Sweet Colona, fair Colona, young and sprightful lady, do not let me in the best of my youth languish in my earnest affections. Col. Why should you seek, my lord, to purchase glory By the disgrace[s] of a silly maid ? Fer. That I confess too. I am every way so un- worthy of the first-fruits of thy embraces, so far be- neath the riches of thy merit, that it can be no honour to thy fame to rank me in the number of thy servants; yet prove me how true, how firm I will stand to thy pleasures, to thy command ; and, as time shall serve, be ever thine. Now, prithee, dear Colona, — Col. Well, well, my lord, I have no heart of flint; SCENE II. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 1 9 Or if I had, you know by cunning words How to outwear it : — but — Fcr. But what? do not pity thy own gentleness, lovely Colona. Shall I ? Speak, shall I ? — say but ay, and our wishes are made up. Col. How shall I say ay, when my fears say no ? Fer. You will not fail to meet [me] two hours hence, sweet? Col. No; Yes, yes, I would have said : how my tongue trips ! Fer. I take that promise and that double yes as an assurance of thy faith. In the grove ; good sweet, remember; in any case alone, — d'ye mark, love? — not as much as your duchess' little dog ; — you'll not forget ? — two hours hence — think on't, and miss not : till then — Col. O, if you should prove false, and love another ! Fer. Defy me, then ! I'll be all thine, and a ser- vant only to thee, only to thee. \Exit Col.] — Very passing good ! three honest women in our courts here of Italy are enough to discredit a whole nation of that sex. He that is not a cuckold or a bastard is a strangely happy man ; for a chaste wife, or a mother that never stept awry, are wonders, wonders in Italy. 'Slife ! I have got the feat on't, and am every day more active m my trade : 'tis a sweet sin, this slip of mortality, and I have tasted enough for one passion of my senses. — Here comes more work for me. Fnler Julia. And how does my-* own Julia ? Mew upon this sad- ness! what's the matter you are melancholy? — Whither away, wench ? -'' my] Gifford printed "mine." D. 20 LOVES SACRIFICE. act i. Jul. 'Tis well; the time has been when your smooth tongue Would not have mock'd my griefs ; and had I been More chary of mine honour,'-^^ you had still Been lowly as you were. Fer. Lowly ! why, I am sure I cannot be much more lowly than I am to thee ; thou bringest me on my bare knees, wench, twice in every four-and-twenty hours, besides half-turns instead of bevers.-'' What must we next do, sweetheart ? Jul. Break vows on your side ; I expect no other. But every day look when some newer choice May violate your honour and my trust. Fer. Indeed, forsooth ! how say ye by that, la ?-" I hope I neglect no opportunity to your inmquam satis, to be called in question for. Go, thou art as fretting as an old grogram -P by this hand, I love thee^^ for't ; it becomes thee so prettily to be angry. Well, if thou shouldst die, farewell all love with me for ever ! go ; I'll meet thee soon in thy lady's back-lobby, I will, wench ; look for me. Jul. But shall I be resolv'd you will be mine ? Fer. All thine ; I will reserve my best ability, my heart, my honour only to thee, only to thee. Pity of my blood, away ! I hear company coming on : remem- ber, soon I am all thine, I will live perpetually only to thee : away ! \Fxif JuL^ 'Sfoot ! I wonder about 25 mine ho>iour,'\ Gifford printed '' mine own honour." D. 26 bevers.'\ A slight intermediate repast between breakfast and dinner, or sometimes between dinner and tlie undcrincle. '-7 hmu say yc by that, la ?] A colloquial exi^ression, common in our old dramatists, for "what do you mean by that?" Tliere is a slight error in the old copy, which for '' say yc" reads " shcy." ■-8 thou art as fretting as an old grogram :'\ A coarse kind of silk taffety, usually stiffened with gum, and peculiarly liable, after some wearing, to fret and lose its gloss. It is often alluded to by our old writers. 23 thee\ Gifford printed "you." V). SCENE II. T-OVE'S SACRIFICE. 21 what time of the year I was begot ; sure, it was when the moon was in conjunction, and all the other pla- nets drunk at a morris-dance : I am haunted above patience ; my mind is not as infinite to do as my occasions are proffered of doing. Chastity ! I am an eunuch if I think there be any such thing ; or if there be, 'tis amongst us men, for I never found it in a woman throughly tempted yet. I have a shrewd hard task coming on ; but let it pass. — Who comes now ? My lord, the duke's friend ! I will strive to be inward with him. Enter Fernando. My noble'^*^ Lord Fernando ! — Eern. My Lord Ferentes, I should change some words Of consequence with you ; but since I am, For this time, busied in more serious thoughts, I'll pick some fitter opportunity. jFlt. 1 will wait your pleasure, my lord. Good-day to your lordship. [£xit Fern. Traitor to friendship, whither shall I run, That, lost to reason, cannot sway the float Of the unruly faction in my blood ? The duchess, O, the duchess ! in her smiles Are all my joys abstracted. — Death to my thoughts ! My other plague comes to me. Enter Fiormonda aiid Julia. Fior. My Lord Fernando, what, so hard at study ! You are a kind companion to yourself. That love to be alone so. Fer7i. Madam, no ; I rather chose this leisure to admire The glories of this little world, the court, •■"' iioble\ Omitted by Gifford. D. 2 2 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT i. Where, like so many stars, on several thrones Beauty and greatness shine in proper orbs ; Sweet matter for my meditation. Fior. So, so, sir ! — Leave us, Julia \^Exit Jul.\ — your own proof. By travel and prompt observation, Instruct[s] you how to place the use of speech. — But since you are at leisure, pray let's sit : We'll pass the time a little in discourse. What have you seen abroad ? Fern. No wonders, lady, Like these I see at home. Fior. At home ! as how ? Fern. Your pardon, if my tongue, the voice of truth, Report but what is warranted by sight. Fior. What sight ? Fern. Look in your glass, and you shall see A miracle. Fior. What miracle ? Fern. Your beauty. So far above all beauties else abroad As you are in your own superlative. Fior. Fie, fie ! your wit hath too much edge. Fern. Would that. Or any thing that I could challenge mine. Were but of value to express how much I serve in love the sister of my prince ! Fior. 'Tis for your prince's sake, then, not for mine? Fern. For you in him, and much for him in you. I must acknowledge, madam, I observe In your affects'''^ a thing to me most strange, Which makes me so much honour you the more. Fior. Pray, tell it. Fern. Gladly, lady : •" />/ i'o«;- afiTecls] See [nolo], \). 15. SCENE II. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 23 I see how opposite to youth and custom You set before you, in the^- tablature Of your remembrance, the becoming griefs Of a most loyal lady for the loss Of so renown'd a prince as was your lord. Fior. Now, good my lord, no more of him. Fern. Of him ! I know it is a needless task in me To set him forth in his deserved praise ; You better can record it ; for you find How much more he exceeded other men In most heroic virtues of account, So much more was your loss in losing him. Of him ! his praise should be a field too large, Too spacious, for so mean an orator As I to range in. J^ior. Sir, enough : 'tis true He well deserv'd your labour. On his deathbed This ring he gave me, bade me never part With this but to the man I lov'd as dearly As I lov'd him : yet since you know which way To blaze his worth so rightly, in return To your deserts wear this for him and me. \Offers him the ring. Fern. Madam ! Fior. 'Tis yours. Fern. Methought you said he charg'd you Not to impart it but to him you lov'd As dearly as you lov'd him. Pior. True, I said so. Fern. O, then, far be it my unhallow'd hand With any rude intrusion should annuF-'' A testament enacted by the dead ! 32 the\ The 410 has "your." D. 33 annul\ The 410 has ' ' vnuaile ;" and Gifford printed ' ' unveil. U. 24 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act i. Fior. Why, man, that testament is disannull'd And cancell'd quite by us that Kve. Look here, My blood is not yet freez'd ; for better instance. Be judge yourself; experience is no danger — Cold are my sighs ; but, feel, my lips are warm. \Kisses him. Fern. What means the virtuous marquess ? Fior. To new-kiss The oath to thee, which whiles he liv'd was his : Hast thou yet power to love ? Fei'ii. To love ! Fior. To meet Sweetness of language in discourse as sweet ? Fern. Madam, 'twere dulness past the ignorance Of common blockheads not to understand Whereto this favour tends ; and 'tis a fortune So much above my fate, that I could wish ^ No greater happiness on earth : but know TvOng since I vow'd to live a single life. Fior. What was 't you said ? Fern. I said I made a vow — Enter Bianca, Petruchio, Colona, and D'Avolos. [Aside] Blessed deliverance ! Fior. [aside] Prevented? mischief on this inter- ruption ! Fian. My Lord Fernando, you encounter fitly ; I have a suit t'ye. Fern. 'Tis my duty, madam, To be commanded. Bian. Since my lord the duke Is now dispos'd to mirth, the time serves well For mediation, that he would be pleas'd To take the Lord Roseilli to his grace. He is a noble gentleman ; I dare SCENE II. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 25 Engage my credit, loyal to the state ; — And, sister, one that ever strove, methought. By special service and obsequious care, To win respect from you : it were a part Of gracious favour, if you pleas'd to join With us in being suitors to the duke For his return to court. Fior. To court ! indeed. You have some cause to speak ; he undertook. Most champion-like, to win the prize at tilt. In honour of your picture ; marry, did he. There's not a groom o' th' querry could have match'd The jolly riding-man : pray, get him back ; I do not need his service, madam, I. Bian. Not need it, sister ! why, I hope you think 'Tis no necessity in me to move it, More than respect of honour. Fior. Honour ! puh ! Honour is talk'd of more than known by some. Bian. Sister, these words I understand not. Feni. \aside\ Swell not, unruly thoughts ! — Madam, the motion you propose proceeds From the true touch of goodness ; 'tis a plea Wherein my tongue and knee shall jointly strive To beg his highness for Roseilli's cause. Your judgment rightly speaks him ; there is not In any court of Christendom a man For quality or trust more absolute. Fior. \aside\ How ! is't even so ? Pet. I shall for ever bless Your highness for your gracious kind esteem Of my dishearten'd kinsman ; and to add Encouragement to what you undertake, I dare affirm 'tis no important fault Hath caus'd the duke's distaste. 26 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT I. Bia?i. I hope so too. DAv. Let your highness, and you all, my lords, take advice how you motion his excellency on Ro- seilli's behalf; there is more danger in that man than is fit to be publicly reported. I could wish things were otherwise for his own sake ; but I'll assure ye, you will exceedingly alter his excellency's disposition he now is in, if you but mention the name of Roseilli to his ear ; I am so much acquainted in the process of his actions. Bian. If it be so, I am the sorrier, sir : I'm loth to move my lord unto offence ; Yet I'll adventure chiding. Ferji. [aside] O, had I India's gold, I'd give it all T' exchange one private word, one minute's breath. With this heart-wounding beauty ! Enter the Duke, Ferentes, and Nibrassa. Duke. Prithee, no more, Ferentes ; by the faith I owe to honour, thou hast made me laugh Beside my spleen. '^^ — Fernando, hadst thou heard The pleasant humour of Mauruccio's dotage Discours'd, how in the winter of his age He is become a lover, thou wouldst swear A morris-dance were but a tragedy Compar'd to that : well, we will see the youth. — What council hold you now, sirs? Bian. We, my lord, Were talking of the horsemanship in France,^^ 8* thoti hast ?nadc mc laugh Reside my spleen.] i.e. "beyond my usual custom of laughter. " The spleen seems to have been considered as the source of any sud- den and violent ebullition, whether of mirth or anger. 35 We, my lord. Were talking of the horscinanship m France, &c.] See p. 9. This topic is skilfully introduced by the duchess, as it leads directly to the mention of Roseilli's excellence in the art. It does not appear how the duke reckoned time, but he evidently supposes some days to have passed since the opening of the play, though we are but in SCENE 11. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 27 Which, as your friend reports, he thinks exceeds All other nations. Duke. How ! why, have not we As gallant riders here ? Fern. None that I know. Duke. Pish, your affection leads you ; I dare wage A thousand ducats, not a man in France Outrides Roseilli. Fior. \aside\ I shall quit this wrong. Bian. I said as much, my lord. Fern. I have not seen His practice since my coming back. Duke. Where is he? How is't we see him not ? Pet. \aside\ What's this ? what's this ? Fern. I hear he was commanded from the court. DAv. \aslde\ O, confusion on this villanous occa- sion ! Duke. True ; but we meant a day or two at most Should be his furthest term. Not yet return'd ? Where's D'Avolos ? DAv. My lord? Duke. You know our mind •?^ How comes it thus to pass we miss Roseilli ? DAv. My lord, in a sudden discontent I hear he de- parted towards Benevento, detemiining, as I am given to understand, to pass to Seville, minding to visit his cousin, Don Pedro de Toledo, in the Spanish court. Duke. The Spanish court! now, by the blessed bones Of good Saint Francis, let there posts be sent the second scene, and, as appears from Petriichio's speech in the next page, not yet arrived at the close of the first day ! 3^ mind] The 410 has "minds." D. 28 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT i. To call him back, or I will post thy head Beneath my foot : ha, you ! you know my mind ; Look that you get him back : the Spanish court ! And without our commission ! — ^" Pd. \asidc\ Here's fine juggling ! Bian. Good sir, be not so mov'd. Duke. Fie, fie, Bianca, 'Tis such a gross indignity ; I'd rather Have lost seven years' revenue : — the Spanish court ! — How now, what ails our sister ? Fior. On the sudden I fall a-bleeding ; 'tis an ominous sign, Pray heaven it turn to good ! — Your highness' leave. \Exit, Duke. Look to her. — Come, Fernando, — come, Bianca, — Let's strive to overpass this choleric heat. — Sirrah, see that you trifle not. \To D'Av.] — How we Who sway the manage of authority May be abus'd by smooth ofiicious agents ! — But look well to our sister. \Exeunt all but Pd. and Fern. Pet. Nephew, please you To see your friend to-night ? Fern. Yes, uncle, yes. \Exit Pd. Thus bodies walk unsoul'd !''^ mine eyes but follow My heart cntomb'd in yonder goodly shrine : Life without her is but death's subtle snares, And I am but a coffin to my cares. \Exit. 37 And without otir cojnmission / — ] The 4to has " A>?d without our Commission, — say!" D. ■*8 unsoul'd] Spenser has this word in The Faery Queen e ; " Nc oiiglit to see, but like a shade to weene, Unbodied, unsoul'd, unheard, unseene." (B. vii. C. vii. 46. Gifford quoted Spenser here because Weber had said that " unsoul'd" was "a very quaint word, coined by Ford." D.] SCENE r. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 29 ACT II. Scene I. A room in Mauruccio's house. MaurucciO looking in a glass, trimming his heard : GtACOPO brushing him. Maur. Beard, be confin'd to neatness, that no hair May stover up^ to prick my mistress' hp, More rude than bristles of a porcupine. — Giacopo ! Gia. My lord ? Maur. Am I all sweet behind ? Gia. I have no poulterer's nose ; but your apparel sits about you most debonairly. Maur. But, Giacopo, with what grace do my words proceed out of my mouth ? Have I a moving coun- tenance ? is there harmony in my voice ? canst thou perceive, as it were, a handsomeness of shape in my very breath, as it is formed into syllab]e[s], Giacopo ? Enter above- Duke, Bianca, Fiormonda, Fernando, Courtiers, aud Attendants. Gia. Yes, indeed, sir, I do feel a savour as pleasant as — a glister-pipe [rt-^-zV/t'] — calamus, or civet. Duke. Observe him, and be silent. Maur. Hold thou the glass, Giacopo, and mark me with what exceeding comeliness I could court the lady marquess, if it come to the push, 1 May stover up\ i.e. bristle up, stiffen, &c. ; in which sense the word is still familiarly used in the western counties. - Enter above, &c.] i.e. as has been already observed, on the raised platform of the old stage, which served as a gallery to a room, or a balcony to a street. 30 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act ii. Duke. Sister, you are his aim. Fior. A subject fit To be the stale of laughter ! Bian. That's your music.^ Maur. Thus I reverse my pace, and thus stalking in courtly gait, I advance one, two, and three. — Good ! I kiss my hand, make my congee, settle my counte- nance, and thus begin. — Hold up the glass higher, Giacopo. Gia. Thus high, sir ? Maur. 'Tis well ; now mark me. " Most excellent marquess, most fair la-dy, Let not old age or hairs that are sil-ver Disparage my desire ; for it may be I am than other green youth nimble-er."* Since I am your gra-ce's servant so true, Great lady, then, love me for my vir-tue." O, Giacopo, Petrarch was a dunce, Dante a jig-maker, Sanazzar a goose, and Ariosto a puck-fist,'' to me ! 1 tell thee, Giacopo, I am rapt with fury ; and have been for these six nights together drunk with the pure liquor of Helicon. Gia. I think no less, sir ; for you look as wild, and talk as idly, as if you had not slept these nine years. Duke. What think you of this language, sister? Fior. Sir, I think in princes' courts no age nor greatness 3 That's yo7ir music.'] This appears to be an incidental observa- tion on the perpetual tone of wrangling sustained by this captious, jealous, malevolent woman, who turns everything to poison. * nimbli-cr i\ Rather, "nimb^ler." — The 4to has "nimb-ler. " D. •^ Ariosto a puck-fist,] i.e. an empty boaster. The word is com- mon in our old writers for anything vile or worthless. The fungus so called is better known to our villagers by the name o^ piiff-liall. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 3 1 But must admit the fool ; in me 'twere folly To scorn what greater states*" than I have been. Bian. O, but you are too general — Fior. A fool ! I thank your highness : many a woman's wit Have thought themselves much better was much worse. Bian. You still mistake me. Duke. Silence ! note the rest, Maur. God-a'-mercy, brains ! Giacopo, I have it. Gia. What, my lord ? Maur. A conceit, Giacopo, and a fine one — down on thy knees, Giacopo, and worship my wit. Give me both thy ears. Thus it is ; I will have my picture drawn most composituously, in a square table "" of some two foot long, from the crown of the head to the waist downward, no further. Gia. Then you'll look like a dwarf, sir, being cut off by the middle. Maur. Speak not thou, but wonder at the conceit that follows. In my bosom, on my left side, I will have a leaf of blood-red crimson velvet — as it were part of my doublet — open ; which being opened, Gia- copo, — now mark ! — I will have a clear and most transparent crystal in the form of a heart. — Singular- admirable ! — When I have framed this, I will, as some rare outlandish piece of workmanshij^, bestow it on the most fair and illustrious Lady^ Fiormonda. Gia. But now, sir, for the conceit. Maur. Simplicity and ignorance, prate no more ! 8 states] See note, vol. i. p. igi. D. '' table] The board, or strained canvas, on which the picture was to be painted. 8 Lady] Omitted by Gifford. D. 32 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act ii. blockhead, dost not understand yet ? Why, this being to her instead of a looking-glass, she shall no oftener powder her hair, surfel her cheeks,^ cleanse her teeth, or conform the hairs of her eyebrows, but having oc- casion to use this glass — whicli for the rareness and richness of it she will hourly do — but she shall as often gaze on my picture, remember me, and behold the ex- cellence of her excellency's beauty in the prospective and mirror, as it were, in my heart. Gia. Ay, marry, sir, this is something. All above except Fior. Ha, ha, ha ! \Exit Fior. Bian. My sister's gone in anger. Maur. Who's that laughs ? search with thine eyes, Giacopo. Gia. O, my lord, my lord, you have gotten an everlasting fame ! the duke's grace, and the duchess' grace, and my Lord Fernando's grace, with all the rabble of courtiers, have heard every word ; look where they stand ! Now you shall be made a count for your wit, and I lord for my counsel. Duke. Beshrew the chance ! we are discover'd. Maur. Pity — O, my wisdom ! I must speak to them. — O, duke most great, and most renowned duchess ! Excuse my apprehension, which not much is ; 'Tis love, my lord, that's all the hurt you see ; 9 surfel her checks,'] Thus Broome ; " Her eye artificially spirited, her check sur/ellcd, her teetli blanched, her lij^s painted," &c. City Wit. To surphule or surfel the cheeks is to wasli them with mer- curial or sulphur water, as it was called, one of those pernicious com- pounds which, under the name of cosmetics, found their way to the ladies' toilets. They were generally applied, that is, rubbed in, with Spanish wool or a piece of scarlet cloth. The word itself is very common, as indeed was the practice in Ford's time, which in the variety of those deleterious washes yields in notliing to ours. In that interminable old drama. The Spanish Bawd, there are more lotions and cosmetics enumerated than our modern Gowlands per- haps ever dreamed of. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 33 Angelica herself[doth] plead for me. Duke. We pardon you, most wise and learned lord; And, that we may all glorify your wit, Entreat your wisdom's company to-day To grace our table w.ith your grave discourse :^° What says your mighty eloquence ? Maur. Giacopo, help me ; his grace has put me out [of] my own bias, and I know not what to answer in form. Gia. Ud's me, tell him you'll come. Mam-. Yes, I will come, my lord the duke, I will. Duke. We take your word, and wish your honour health. — Away, then ! come, Bianca, we have found A salve for melancholy, — mirth and ease. \Exit the Duke, follotved by all but Bian. a?id Fern. Bian. I'll see the jolly lover and his glass Take leave of one another. Maur. Are they gone ? Gia. O, my lord, I do now smell news. Maur. What news, Giacopo ? Gia. The duke has a smackering towards you, and you shall clap-up with his sister the widow sud- denly. Maur. She is mine, Giacopo, she is mine ! Ad- vance the glass, Giacopo, that I may practise, as I pass, to walk a portly grace like a marquis, to which degree I am now a-climbing. 1* Entreat your wisdom s company to-day To grace our table zoith your grave discourse .■] The old copy reads "To grace our talk," which renders the metre as imperfect as the sense. I flatter myself that the text is restored to its genuine state. VOL. II. D 34 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act ii. Thus do we march to honour's haven of bHss, To ride in trium]5h through PersepoHs.^^ [Exit Gia., going backward with the glass, followed by Maur, complimenting}'^ Bian. Now, as I Hve, here's laughter Worthy our presence ! I'll not lose him so. \Going. Fern. Madam, — Bian. To me, my lord ? Fern. Please but to hear The story of a castaway in love ; And, O, let not the passage of a jest Make slight a sadder subject, who hath plac'd All happiness in your diviner eyes ! Bian. My lord, the time — Fa'n. The time ! yet hear me speak, For I must speak or burst : I have a soul So anchor'd down with cares in seas of woe. That passion and the vows I owe to you Have chang'd me to a lean anatomy :^'^ Sweet princess of my life, — Bian. Forbear, or I shall — Fern. Yet, as you honour virtue, do not freeze My hopes to more discomfort than as yet My fears suggest ; no beauty so adorns 11 To ride in triumph thro7tgh Pcrscpolis.'] To my surprise, it has escaped Gifford that here Mauruccio is quoting Marlowe's Taf/ibur- lainc ; " Mean. Your majesty shall shortly have your wish, And ride iti triumph throus^h Pcrsepolis. [Exeunt all except Taml>. Titer. Tech. and Usum. Tamb. And ride in triumph through Pcrsepolis / — Is it not brave to be a king, Techelles? — Usunicasane and Theridamas, Is it not passing brave to be a ki;ig, And ride in triumph through Per.^epolis ?" First Part of Tambur la ine, act ii. sc. 5, — Works, p. 17, ed. Dyce, 1858. D. 1- Mauruccio complimenting.] i.e. practising the airs of a cour- tier. '•' anatomy f\ i.e. skeleton. D. SCENE II. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 35 The composition of a well-built mind As pity : hear me out. Bian. No more ! I spare To tell you what you are, and must confess Do almost hate my judgment, that it once Thought goodness dwelt in you. Remember now, It is the third time since your treacherous tongue Hath pleaded treason to my ear and fame ; Yet, for the friendship 'twixt my lord and you, I have not voic'd your follies : if you dare To speak a fourth time, you shall rue your lust ; 'Tis all no better : — learn and love yourself. \Exit. Fern. Gone ! O, my sorrows ! how am I undone ! Not speak again ? no, no, in her chaste breast Virtue and resolution have discharg'd All female weakness : I have su'd and su'd, Knelt, wept, and begg'd ; but tears and vows and words Move her no more than summer-winds a rock. I must resolve to check this rage of blood, And will : she is all icy to my fires. Yet even that ice inflames in me desires. \Exit. Scene II. A room in Petruchio's house. Enter Petruchio and Roseilli. Rose. Is't possible the duke should be so mov'd? Pet. 'Tis true \ you have no enemy at court But her for whom you pine so much in love ; Then master your affections : I am sorry You hug your ruin so. — What say you to the project I propos'd ? Rose. I entertain it with a greater joy Than shame can check. 36 .LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act ii. Enter Fernando. Pet. You're come as I could wish ; My cousin is resolv'd. Fern. Without delay Prepare yourself, and meet at court anon, Some half-hour hence ; and Cupid bless your joy ! Rose. If ever man was bounden to a friend,- — Fern. No more ; away ! \Exeunt Pet. and Rose. Love's rage is yet unknown ; In his — ay me !^^ — too well I feel my own ! — So, now I am alone ; now let me think. She is the duchess ; say she be ; a creature Sew'd-up in painted^* cloth might so be styl'd ; 'That's but a name : she's married too; she is, And therefore better might distinguish love : She's young and fair ; why, madam, that's the bait Invites me more to hope : she's the duke's wife ; Who knows not this ? — she's bosom'd to my friend ; There, there, I am quite lost : will not be won ; Still worse and worse : abhors to hear me speak ; Eternal mischief ! I must urge no more ; For, were I not be-leper'd in my soul, Here were enough to quench the flames of hell. What then ? pish ! [if] I must not speak, I'll write. Come, then, sad secretary to my plaints. Plead thou my faith, for words are turn'd to sighs. What says this paper ? \Takes out a letter, and reads. Enter D'AvoLOS behind with two pictures. lyAv. \aside\ Now is the time. Alone? reading a letter ? good ; how now ! striking his breast ! what, in the name of policy, should this mean ? tearing his i* ay mc /] See note, vol. i. p. 165. D. '^ in painted^ Giffoiti printed " /;/ a. pahited." D. SCENE II. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 37 hair ! passion ; by all the hopes of my life, plain passion ! now I perceive it. If this be not a fit of some violent affection, I am an ass in understand- ing; why, 'tis plain, — plainer and plainer; love in the extremest. O, for the party who, now! The great- ness of his spirits is too high cherished to be caught with some ordinary stuff, and if it be my Lady Fior- monda, I am strangely mistook. Well, that I have fit occasion soon to understand. I have here two pictures newly drawn, to be sent for a present to the Abbot of Monaco, the duchess' uncle, her own and iny lady's : I'll observe which of these may, perhaps, bewray him — he turns about. — My noble lord ! — Fern. You're welcome, sir ; I thank you. UAv. Me, my lord ! for what, my lord ? Fern. Who's there ? I cry you mercy, D'Avolos, I took you for another ; pray, excuse me. What is't you bear there ? UAv. No secret, my lord, but may be imparted to you : a couple of pictures, my good lord, — please you see them ? Fern. I care not much for pictures ; but whose are they? JJAv. Th' one is for my lord's sister, the other is the duchess. Fern. Ha, D'Avolos ! the duchess's ? UAv. Yes, my lord. — [Aside] Sure, the word start- led him : observe that. Fern. You told me. Master Secretary, once, You ow'd me love. UAv. Service, my honoured lord; howsoever you please to term it. Fern. 'Twere rudeness to be suitor for a sight ; Yet trust me, sir, I'll be all secret. UAv. I beseech your lordship; — they are, as I 38 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act h. am, constant to your pleasure. [S/ioics Fiortnondds picture.^ This, my lord, is the widow marquess's, as it now newly came from the picture-drawer's, the oil yet green : a sweet picture ; and, in my judgment, art hath not been a niggard in striving to equal the life. Michael Angelo himself needed not blush to own the workmanship. Fern. A very pretty picture ; but, kind signior, To whose use is it ? DAv. For the duke's, my lord, who determines to send it with all speed as a present to Paul^^ Baglione, uncle to the duchess, that he may see the riches of two such lustres as shine in the court of Pavy. Fern. Pray, sir, the other? UAv. \shotos the picture of the Duchess] This, my lord, is for the Duchess Bianca : a wondrous sweet picture, if you well observe with what singularity the artsman hath strove to set forth each limb in exqui- sitest proportion, not missing a hair. Fern. A hair! UAv. She cannot more formally, or — if it may be lawful to use the word — more really, behold her own symmetry in her glass than in taking a sensible view of this counterfeit. When I first saw it, I verily almost was of a mind that this was her very lip. Fern. Lip ! UAv. \aside\ How constantly he dwells upon this portraiture! — Nay, I'll assure your lordship there is no defect of cunning. — [Asu/e] His eye is fixed as if it were incorporated there. — Were not the party her- self alive to witness that there is a creature com- posed of flesh and blood as naturally enriched with such harmony of admirable beauty as is here arti- ficially counterfeited, a very curious eye might repute !•' Paul] Gifford printed " Paulo :" but sec p. 12. I). SCENE II. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 39 it as an imaginary rapture of some transported con- ceit, to aim at an impossibility ; whose very first gaze is of force almost to persuade a substantial love in a settled heart. Fern. Love ! heart ! DAv. My honoured lord, — • Fern. O heavens ! UAv. [aside] I am confirmed. — What ails your lordship ? Fern. You need not praise it, sir; itself is praise. — [Aside] How near had I forgot myself! — I thank you. 'Tis such a picture as might well become The shrine of some fam'd^*" Venus ; I am dazzled With looking on't : — pray, sir, convey it hence. D'Av. I am all your servant. — [Aside] Blessed, blessed discovery! — Please you to command me? Fern. No, gentle sir. — [Aside] I'm lost beyond my senses. — D'ye hear, sir? good, where dwells the picture-maker? B'Az'. By the castle's farther drawbridge, near Galiazzo's statue ; his name is Alphonso Trinultio. — [Aside] Happy above all fate ! Fern. You say enough ; my thanks t'ye ! [Fxit D'Av.] — Were that picture But rated at my lordship, 'twere too cheap. I fear I spoke or did I know not what ; All sense of providence was in mine eye. Fnfer Ferentes, Mauruccio, and Giacopo. Fer. [aside] Youth in threescore years and ten ! — Trust me, my Lord Mauruccio, you are now younger in the judgment of those that compare your former age with your latter by seven-and-twenty years than 16 /am'd] The 4to has "fain'd." D. 40 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act ii. you were three years ago : by all my fidelity, 'tis a miracle ! the ladies wonder at you. Maiir. Let them wonder ; I am wise as I am courtly. Gia. The ladies, my lord, call him the Green Broom of the court, — he sweeps all before him, — and swear he has a stabbing wit : it is a very glister to laughter. Mail)'. Nay, I know I can tickle 'em at my plea- sure ; I am stiff and strong, Ferentes. Gia. \aside\ A radish - root is a spear of steel in comparison of I know what. Fer. The marquess doth love you. Maw. She doth love me. Fer. And begins to do you infinite grace, Mau- ruccio, infinite grace. Fern. I'll take this time. — \Coi>ies forwarif\ Good hour, my lords, to both ! Maur. Right princely Fernando, the best of the Fernandos ; by the pith of generation, the man I look for. His highness hath sent to find you out : he is determined to weather his own proper individual per- son for two days' space in my Lord Nibrassa's forest, to hunt the deer, the buck, the roe, and eke the barren doe. Fern. Is his highness preparing to hunt ? Maur}" Yes, my lord, and resolved to lie forth for the breviating the prolixity of some superfluous transmigration of the sun's double cadence to the western horizon, my most perspicuous good lord. Fern. O, sir, let me beseech you to speak in your own mother tongue. — \Aside\ Two days' absence, well. — My Lord Mauruccio, I have a suit t'ye, — Maur. My Lord Fernando, I have a suit to you. ^^ Maur.'\ The 4to has " P'eren." D. SCENE II. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 41 Fern. That you will accept from me a very choice token of my love : will you grant it ? Maur. Will you grant mine ? Fern. What is't ? Maur. Only to know what the suit is you please to prefer to me. Fern. Why, 'tis, my lord, a fool. Maur. A fool ! Fern. As very a fool as your lordship is — hopeful to see in any time of your life. Gia. Now, good my lord, part not with the fool on any terms. Maur. I beseech you, my lord, has the fool quali- ties? Fern. Very rare ones : you shall not hear him speak one wise word in a month's converse ; passing temperate of diet, for, keep him from meat four-and- twenty hours, and he will fast a whole day and a night together ; unless you urge him to swear, there seldom comes an oath from his mouth; and of a fool, my lord, to tell ye the plain truth, had he but half as much wit as you, my lord, he would be in short time three quarters as arrant wise as your lordship. Maur. Giacopo, these are very rare elements in a creature of little understanding. O, that I long to see him ! Fern. A very harmless idiot ; — and, as you could wish, look where he comes. Fnter Petruchio, a7id Roseilli dressed like afoolP Pet. Nephew, here is the thing you sent for. — Come hither, fool ; come, 'tis a good fool. 18 dressed like a fool.] i."e. in the long petticoats with which in- nocents, or natural fools, were furnished for the sake of decency. The passion of our ancestors for retaining these mortifying and dis- gusting spectacles about them can only be accounted for from the 42 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT ii. Fern. Here, my lord, I freely give you the fool ; pray use him well for my sake. Maur. I take the fool most thankfully at your hands, my lord. — Hast any qualities, my pretty fool ? wilt dwell with me ? Ros. A, a, a, a, ay. Pet. I never beheld a more natural creature in my life. Fern. Uncle, the duke, I hear, prepares to hunt ; Let's in and wait. — Farewell, Mauruccio. [Exeunt Fern, and Pet. Maur. Beast that I am, not to ask the fool's name ! 'tis no matter ; fool is a sufficient title to call the greatest lord in the court by, if he be no wiser than he. Gia. O, my lord, what an arrant excellent pretty creature 'tis ! — Come, honey, honey, honey, come ! Fer. You are beholding to my Lord Fernando for this gift. Maur. True. O, that he could but speak metho- dically !— Canst speak, fool ? Ros. Can speak ; de e e e e — Fer. 'Tis a present for an emperor. What an ex- cellent instrument were this to purchase a suit or a monopoly from the duke's ear ! Maur. I have it, I am wise and fortunate. — Gia- copo, I will leave all conceits, and instead of my pic- ture, offer the lady marquess this mortal man of weak brain. superstitious belief, then widely spread, that they brought a blessing to the house that cherished them. It is not easy to surmise why Roseilli took upon himself this repulsive character. He could scarcely expect to win his mistress by inarticulate drivelling; yet he assigns no other motivt; for his gratuitous degradation : at all events, he con- tributes nothing to the perfection of the story, nor do his discoveries in his disguise advance or retard the fortunes of his friend, or facili- tate the progress of the action in a single instance. SCENE ir. LOVE'S SACRIFICE, 43 Gia. My lord, you have most rarely bethought you ; for so shall she no oftener see the fool but she shall remember you better than by a thousand looking- glasses. Fcr. She will most graciously entertain it. Maur. I may tell you, Ferentes, there's not a great woman amongst forty but knows how to make sport with a fool. — Dost know how old thou art, sirrah? Ros. Dud — a clap cheek for nown sake, gaffer; hee e e e e. Fcr. Alas, you must ask him no questions, but clap him on the cheek ; I understand his language : your fool is the tender-heartedest creature that is. Enter Fiormonda and D'Avolos in dose conver- sation. Fior. No more ; thou hast in this discovery Exceeded all my favours, D'Avolos. Is't Mistress Madam Duchess ? brave revenge ! UAv. But had your grace seen the infinite appe- tite of lust in the piercing adultery of his eye, you would — Fior. Or change him, or confound him : prompt dissembler ! Is here the bond of his religious vow ? And that, " now when the duke is rid abroad, My gentleman will stay behind, is sick — or so" ? HAv. " Not altogether in health;" — it was the ex- cuse he made. Maur. [seeing t/iem] Most fit opportunity ! her grace comes just i' th' nick ; let me study. Fer. Lose no time, my lord. Gia. To her, sir. Maur. Vouchsafe to stay thy foot, most Cynthian hue, 44 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act ii. And from a creature ever vow'd thy servant Accept this gift, most rare, most fine, most new ; The earnest-penny of a love so fervent. Fior. What means the jolly youth? Mmir. Nothing, sweet princess, but only to pre- sent your grace with this sweet-faced fool ; please you to accept him to make you merry : I'll assure your grace he is a very w^holesome fool. Fior. A fool ! you might as well ha' given yourself. Whence is he ? Main: Now, just very now, given me out of special favour by the Lord Fernando, madam. Fior. By him? well, I accept him; thank you for't: And, in requital, take that toothpicker ; 'Tis yours. Maicr. A toothpicker ! I kiss your bounty : no quibble now? — And, madam. If I grow sick, to make my spirits quicker, I will revive them with this sweet toothpicker. Fior. Make use on't as you list. — Here, D'Avolos, Take in the fool. U Av. Come, sweetheart, wilt along with me ? Ros. U u umh, — u u umh, — wonnot, wonnot — u u umh. Fior. Wilt go with me, chick ? Ros. Will go, te e e — go will go — Fior. Come, D'Avolos, observe to-night ; 'tis late : Or I will win my choice, or curse my fate. \Exciint Fior. Ros. and UAv. Fer. This was wisely done, now. 'Sfoot, you pur- chase a favour from a creature, my lord, the greatest king of the earth would be proud of Maur. Giacopo ! — Gia. My lord ? Maur. Come behind uie, Giacopo ; I am big with SCENE in. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 45 conceit, and must be delivered of poetry in the eternal commendation of this gracious toothpicker : — but, first, I hold it a most healthy policy to make a slight supper — For meat's the food that must preserve our lives, And now's the time when mortals whet their knives — on thresholds, shoe-soles, cart-wheels, &c. — Away, Giacopo ! [^Exeunt. Scene III. The palace. The Duchess's apartment. Enter CoLONA with lights, BiANCA, Fiormonda, Julia, Fer- nando, and D'AVOLOS ; CoLONA places the lights on a table, and sets down a chess-board. Bian. 'Tis yet but early night, too soon to sleep : Sister, shall's have a mate at chess ? J^ior. A mate ! No, madam, you are grown too hard for me ; My Lord Fernando is a fitter match. Bia/i. He's a well-practis'd gamester : well, I care not How cunning soe'er he be. — To pass an hour I'll try your skill, my lord : reach here the chess-board. D'A-c'. [aside] Are you so apt to try his skill. Ma- dam Duchess ? Very good ! Fern. I shall bewray too much my ignorance In striving with your highness ; 'tis a game I lose at still by oversight. Bian. Well, well, I fear you not ; let's to't. Bior. You need not, madam. DAv. [aside to Fior.] Marry, needs she not ; liow gladly will she to't ! 'tis a rook to a queen she li eaves a pawn to a knight's place ; by'r lady, if all be truly 46 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT ii. noted, to a duke's place ; and that's beside the play,^-' I can tell ye. [J^ern. and the Duchess f/ay. Fior. Madam, I must entreat excuse ; I feel The temper of my body not in case To judge the strife. Bian. Lights for our sister, sirs !-^— Good rest t'ye ; I'll but end my game, and follow. Fior. [aside to D'Av.'\ Let 'em have time enough ; and, as thou canst, Be near to hear their courtship, D'Avolos. UAv. [aside to Fior."] Madam, I shall observe 'em with all cunning secrecy. Bian. Colona, attend our sister to her chamber. Col. I shall, madam. [Exit Fior., followed by Col. Jul. and D'Av. Bian. Play. Fern. I must not lose th' advantage of the game : Madam, your queen is lost. Bian. My clergy help me '^?^ My queen ! and nothing for it but a pawn ? Why, then, the game's lost too : but play. Fern. What, madam? [Fern, often looks about. Bian. You must needs play well, you are so studi- ous. — Fie upon't ! you study past patience : — What do you dream on ? here is demurring Would weary out a statue ! — Good, now, play. Fern. Forgive me ; let my knees for ever stick [Kneels. ^9 to a duke's place; and that's beside the play, &c.] i.e. that's no part of the game ; in other words, there is no iMece of this name. The allusion is sufticicntly clear. 20 My clergy help mc!\ i.e. my bishops : hut those who understand the game do not need these modicums of information, and upon all others they are thrown away. SCENE III. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 47 Nail'd to the ground, as earthy as my fears, Ere I arise, to part away so curs'd In my unbounded anguish as the rage Of flames beyond all utterance of words Devour me, lighten'd by your sacred eyes. Bian. What means the man ? Fern. To lay before your feet In lowest vassalage the bleeding heart That sighs the tender of a suit disdain'd. Great lady, pity me, my youth, my wounds ; And do not think that I have cull'd this time From motion's swiftest measure to unclasp The book of lust : if purity of love Have residence in virtue's breast,-^ lo here, Bent lower in my heart than on my knee, I beg compassion to a love as chaste As softness of desire can intimate. Re-enter D'Avolos behind. UAv. \_aside\ At it already ! admirable haste ! Bian. Am I again betray'd? bad man! — Fern. Keep in, Bright angel, that severer breath, to cool That heat of cruelty which sways the temple Of your too stony breast : you cannot urge One reason to rebuke my trembling plea, Which I have not with many nights' expense Examin'd ; but, O, madam, still I find No physic strong to cure a tortur'd mind. But freedom from the torture it sustains. jyAv. [aside] Not kissing yet ? still on your knees? O, for a plump bed and clean sheets, to comfort the 21 in virtue's ircasf,] The 4to reads " in virtue '.s quest :" of which I can make nothing. 48 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT ii. aching of his shins ! We shall have 'em clip^- anon and lisp kisses ; here's ceremony with a vengeance ! Bian. Rise up ; we charge you, rise ! \He rises. Look on our face : What see you there that may persuade a hope Of lawless love ? Know, most unworthy man, So much we hate the baseness of thy lust, As, were none living of thy sex but thee. We had much rather prostitute our blood To some envenom'd serpent than admit Thy bestial dalliance. Couldst thou dare to speak Again, when we forbade? no, wretched thing. Take this for answer : if thou henceforth ope Thy leprous mouth to tempt our ear again. We shall not only certify our lord Of thy disease in friendship, but revenge Thy boldness with the forfeit of thy life. Think on't. UAv. [aside] Now, now, now the game is a-foot ! your gray jennet with the white face is curried, for- sooth ; — please your lordship leap up into the saddle, forsooth. ^Poor duke, how does-'^ thy head ache now ! Av-;;. Stay; go not hence in choler, blessed wo- man ! You've school'd me ; lend me hearing : though the float Of infinite desires swell to a tide Too high so soon to ebb, yet, by this hand, [Kisses her hand. This glorious, gracious hand of yours, — DAiK [aside] Ay, marry, the match is made ; clap hands and to't, ho ! Fern. I swear, " clip] See note, vol. i. p. 172. D. 23 does] Gifford printed "must." D. SCENE III. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 49 Henceforth I never will as much in word, In letter, or in syllable, presume To make a repetition of my griefs. Good-night t'ye ! If, when I am dead, you rip This coffin of my heart, there shall you read With constant eyes, what now my tongue defines, Bianca's name carv'd out in bloody lines. For ever, lady, now good-night ! Bian. Good-night ! Rest in your goodness. — Lights there ! — Enter Attendants zmth lights. Sir, good-night ! \Exeunt sundry ways, with Attendants, Bia. and Fern. U Av. So, via ! — To be cuckold — mercy and pro- vidence — is as natural to a married man as to eat, sleep, or wear a nightcap. Friends ! — I will rather trust mine arm in the throat of a lion, my purse with a courtesan, my neck with the chance on a die, or my religion in a synagogue of Jews, than my wife with a friend. Wherein do princes exceed the poorest pea- sant that ever was yoked to a sixpenny strumpet but that the horns of the one are mounted some two inches higher by a choppine^^ than the other ? O Actaeon ! the goodliest-headed beast of the forest amongst wild ^ by a choppuic\ i. e. clogs or pattens, of cork or light frame- work covered with leather, and worn under the shoe. The practice never prevailed in this country, but seems to have been fashionable at Venice, and places where walking was not required, for which ehoppines were totally unfit, as no woman could drag them after her ; at least, if we may trust Lessels, who says that he has often seen them of " a full half-yard high." Ford's ehoppines, however, are of a very moderate description, and do not reach the altitude of the high-heeled shoes which were fashionable in this country about half a century ago. They derive their origin, as well as their name, from Spain, the region of cork ; but our poets generally draw their examples from Italy. See Jonson, vol. ii. p. 258. VOL. II. E 50 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act ii. cattle is a stag ; and the goodliest beast amongst tame fools in a corporation is a cuckold. Re-enter Fiormonda. Fior. Speak, D'Avolos, how thrives intelligence ? jyAv. Above the prevention of fate, madam. I saw him kneel, make pitiful faces, kiss hands and fore- fingers, rise, — and by this time he is up, up, madam. Doubtless the youth aims to be duke, for he is gotten into the duke's seat an hour ago. Fior. Is't true ? DAv. Oracle, oracle ! Siege was laid, parley ad- mitted, composition offered, and the fort entered ; there's no interruption. The duke will be at home to- morrow, gentle animal ! — what d'ye resolve ? Fior. To stir-up tragedies as black as brave, And send^^ the lecher panting to his grave. \Exeu7it. Scene IV. A bedchamber in the same. Enter BiANCA, her hair loose, in her night-mantle. She draws a curtain, and FERNANDO is discovered in bed, sleeping ; she sets down the candle, and goes to the bedside. Bian. Resolve, and do ; 'tis done. — What ! are those eyes. Which lately were so overdrown'd in tears. So easy to take rest ? O happy man ! How sweetly sleep hath seal'd-up sorrows here ! But I will call him. — What, my lord, my lord, My Lord Fernando ! Fern. Who calls me? Bian. My lord, Sleeping or waking ? '^'•' se>td'\ The 4to has "sending." D. SCENE IV. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 5 1 Fern. Ha ! who is't ? Bian. 'Tis I : Have you forgot my voice? or is your ear But useful to your eye ? Fern. Madam, the duchess ! Bian. She, 'tis she ; sit up, Sit up and wonder, whiles my sorrows swell : The nights are short, and I have much to say. Fern. Is't possible 'tis you ? Bian. 'Tis possible : Why do you think I come ? Fern. Why ! to crown joys, And make me master of my best desires. Bia7i. 'Tis true, you guess aright; sit up and listen. With shame and passion now I must confess, Since first mine eyes beheld you, in my heart You have been only king ; if there can be A violence in love, then I have felt That tyranny : be record to my soul The justice which I for this folly fear ! Fernando, in short words, howe'er my tongue Did often chide thy love, each word thou spak'st Was music to my ear ; was never poor. Poor wretched woman liy'd that lov'd like me. So truly, so unfeignedly. Fern. O, madam ! Bian. To witness that I speak is truth, look here ! Thus singly I adventure'-'^'' to thy bed. And do confess my weakness : if thou tempt'st My bosom to thy pleasures, I will yield. Fern. Perpetual happiness ! 26 Thus singly I adventure, &c.] By singly this paragon of mo- desty does not, I believe, mean alone, without attendants, but thus lightly clad, or rather thus undressed : she had, in short, but one garment, "a robe of shame," as she calls it, of which she bids him take note — " look here !" &c. 52 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act ii. Bian. Now hear me out. When first Caraffa, Pavy's duke, my lord, Saw me, he lov'd me ; and without respect Of dower took me to his bed and bosom ; Advanc'd me to the titles I possess, Not mov'd by counsel or remov'd by greatness ; Which to requite, betwixfmy soul and heaven I vow'd a vow to live a constant wife : I have done so ; nor was there in the world A man created could have broke that truth For all the glories of the earth but thou. But thou, Fernando ! Do I love thee now? Fern. Beyond imagination. Bian. True, I do, Beyond imagination : if no pledge Of love can instance what I speak is true But loss of my best joys, here, here, Fernando, Be satisfied, and ruin me. Fern. What d'ye mean ? Bian. To give my body up to thy embraces, A pleasure that I never wish'd to thrive in Before this fatal minute. Mark me now ; If thou dost spoil me of this robe of shame, By my best comforts, here I vow again, To thee, to heaven, to the world, to time. Ere yet the morning shall new-christen day, I'll kill myself! Fern. How, madam, how ! Bian. I will : Do what thou wilt, 'tis in thy choice : what say ye ? Fern. Pish! do you come to try me? tell me, first. Will you but grant a kiss ? Bian. Yes, take it ; that, Or what thy heart can wish : I am all thine. YFer7i. kisses licr. SCENE IV. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 53 Fern. O, me ! — Come, come ; how many women, pray, Were ever heard or read of, granted love, And did as you protest you will ? Bian. Fernando, Jest not at my calamity. I kneel : \Kneels. By these dishevell'd hairs, these wretched tears. By all that's good, if what I speak my heart Vows not eternally, then think, my lord, Was never man su'd to me I denied, — Think me a common and most cunning whore ; And let my sins be written on my grave. My name rest in reproof! \Rises?^-—Y)o as you list. Fern. I must believe ye, — yet I hope anon,-'' When you are parted from me, you will say I was a good, cold, easy-spirited man. Nay, laugh at my simplicity : say, will ye ? Bian. No, by the faith I owe my bridal vows ! But ever hold thee much, much dearer far Than all my joys on earth, by this chaste kiss. \Kisses him. Fern. You have prevail'd ; and Heaven forbid that I Should by a wanton appetite profane This sacred temple ! 'tis enough for me You'll please to call me servant. Bian. Nay, be thine : Command my power, my bosom ; and I'll write This love within the tables of my heart. Fern. Enough : I'll master passion, and triumph 27 yet I hope anon, &c.] Hope is apparently used here for expect, in which sense it [the substantive, at least] also occurs in Henry IV. where the Prince says ; " By how much better than my word 1 am, By so much shall I falsify men's hopes." 54 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act iti. In being conquer'd ; adding to it this, In you my love as it begun shall end. Bian. The latter I new-vow. But day comes on ; What now we leave unfinish'd of content, Each hour shall perfect up : sweet, let us part. Fer7i. This kiss, — best life, good rest ! \_Kisses her. Bian. All mine to thee ! Remember this, and think I speak thy words ; " When I am dead, rip up my heart, and read With constant eyes, what now my tongue defines, Fernando's name carv'd out in bloody lines." Once more, good rest, sweet ! Fern. Your most faithful servant ! [Exit Bia. — Scene closes. ACT III. Scene I. An apartment in the pa/ace. Enter NiBRASSA chafing, followed by ]\i\Af>. weeping. Nib. Get from me, strumpet, infamous whore, lep- rosy of my blood ! make thy moan to ballad-singers and Vhymers; they'll jig-out thy wretchedness and abo- minations to new tunes : as for me, I renounce thee; thou'rt no daughter of mine ; I disclaim the legitima- tion of thy birth, and curse the hour of thy nativity. Jul. Pray, sir, vouchsafe me hearing. Nib. With child ! shame to my grave ! O, whore, wretched beyond utterance or reformation, what wouldst say? Jul. Sir, by the honour of my mother's hearse, He has protested marriage, pledg'd his faith ; If vows have any force, I am his wife. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 55 Nib. His faith ! Why, thou fool, thou wickedly- credulous fool, canst thou imagine luxury is observant of religion ?^ no, no ; it is with a frequent lecher as usual to forswear as to swear; their piety is in making idolatry a worship ; their hearts and their tongues are as different as thou, thou whore ! and a virgin. Jul. You are too violent ; his truth will prove His constancy, and so excuse my fault. Nib. Shameless woman ! this belief will damn thee. How will thy Lady Marquess justly reprove me for preferring to her service a monster of so lewd and im- pudent a life ! Look to't ; if thy smooth devil leave thee to thy2 infamy, I will never pity thy mortal pangs, never lodge thee under my roof, never own thee for my child ; mercy be my witness ! Etitcr Petruchio, leading Colona. Pet. Hide not thy folly by unwise excuse, Thou art undone, Colona ; no entreaties, No warning, no persuasion, could put off The habit of thy dotage on that man Of much deceit, Ferentes. Would thine eyes Had seen me in my grave, ere I had known The stain of this thine honour ! Col. Good my lord, Reclaim your incredulity : my fault Proceeds from lawful composition Of wedlock ; he hath seal'd his oath to mine To be my husband. Nib. Husband ! hey-day ! is't even so ? nay, then, we have partners in affliction: if my jolly gallant's long 1 catist thou imagine luxury is observant 0/ religion f\ i. e. lust. One example for all ; " To my journey's end I hasten, and descend to the second continent of Delicacy, which is Lust or Luxury." [Nash's] Christ's Tears over Jerusalem, p. 157. 2 %] Gifford printed "thine." D. 56 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act hi. clapper have struck on both sides, all is well. — Petru- chio, thou art not wise enough to be a paritor :" come hither, man, come hither; speak softly; is thy daughter with child ? Pet. With child, Nibrassa ! Nib. Foh ! do not trick me off; I overheard your gabbling. Hark in thine ear, so is mine too. Pet. Alas, my lord, by whom ? Nib. Innocent ! by whom ? what an idle question is that ! One cock hath trod both our hens : Ferentes, Ferentes; who else? How dost take it? methinks thou art wondrous patient : why, I am mad, stark mad. Pet. How like you this, Colona ? 'tis too true : Did not this man protest to be your husband ? Col. Ay me ! to me he did. Nib. What else, what else, Petruchio? — and, ma- dam, my quondam daughter, I hope h'ave^ passed some huge words of matrimony to you too. Jill. Alas ! to me he did. Nib. And how many more the great incubus of hell knows best. — Petruchio, give me your hand ; mine own daughter in this arm, — and yours, Colona, in this : — there, there, sit ye down together. [////. and Col. sit doTC'H.] Never rise, as you hope to inherit our blessings, till you have plotted some brave revenge; think upon it to purpose, and you shall want no seconds to further it ; be secret one to another. — Come, Petru- chio, let 'em alone; the wenches will demur on't, and for the process we'll give 'em courage.'* 2 i/iou art not wise enough to he a paritor :] An inferior officer, Blount says, that summoned delinquents to a spiritual court. These officers seem, from our dramatic poets, to have been a great terror to the waist-coaters of their days. S h'ave] Gifford printed "he has." D. •* and fof the process we' II give 'em courage.] i. e. when the wo- men have agreed on their plan of vengeance, we'll aid them in the performance of it. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 57 Pet. You counsel wisely; I approve your plot. — Think on your shames, and who it was that wrought 'em. Nib. Ay, ay, ay, leave them alone. — To work, wenches, to work ! \Exewit Nib. and Pet. Col. We are quite ruin'd. Jul. True, Colona, Betray'd to infamy, deceiv'd, and mock'd. By an unconstant villain : what shall's do? I am with child. Col. Heigh-ho ! and so am I : But what shall's do now? Jul. This : with cunning words First prove his love ; he knows I am with child. Col. And so he knows I am ; I told him on't Last meeting in the lobby, and, in troth, The false deceiver laugh'd. Jul. Now, by the stars, He did the like to me, and said 'twas well I was so happily sped. Col. Those very words He us'd to me ; it fretted me to th' heart : I'll be reveng'd. Jul. Peace ! here's a noise, methinks. Let's rise ; we'll take a time to talk of this. \They rise, and walk aside. Enter Ferentes a7id Morona. Fer. Will ye hold ? death of my delights, have ye lost all sense of shame ? You're^ best roar about the court that I have been your woman's-barber and trim- med ye, kind Morona. Mor. Defiance to thy kindness ! thou'st robbed me of my good name ; didst promise to love none but me, 5 Youre\ Gifford printed " You were" (the 4to has " y'are") : but see note, vol. i. p. 131. D. 58 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act hi. me, only me ; sworest, like an unconscionable villain, to marry me the twelfth day of the month two months since; didst make my bed thine own, mine house thine own, mine all and everything thine own. I will exclaim to the world on thee, and beg justice of the duke him- self, villain ! I will. Fer. Yet again ? nay, an if you be in that mood, shut up your fore-shop, I'll be your journeyman no longer. Why, wise Madam Dryfist, could your mouldy brain be so addle to imagine I would marry a stale widow at six-and-forty? Marry gip! are there not va- rieties enough of thirteen? come, stop your clap-dish,"^ or I'll purchase a carting for you. By this light, I have toiled more with this tough carrion hen than with ten quails scarce grown into their first feathers. Mor. O, treason to all honesty or religion ! — Speak, thou perjured, damnable, ungracious defiler of women, who shall father my child which thou hast begotten ? Fer. Why, thee, countrywoman ; thou'st a larger purse to pay for the nursing. Nay, if you'll needs have the world know how you, reputed a grave, matron-like, motherly madam, kicked up your heels like a jennet whose mark is new come into her mouth, e'en do, do ! the worst can be said of me is, that I was ill advised to dig for gold in a coal-pit. Are you answered ? Mor. Answered ! Jul. Let's fall amongst 'em. \Comes forward with Co/.] — Love, how is't, chick? ha? 8 coNte, stop your clap-dish] Thus in [Cooke's] Greene s Tu Quoque; "Widow, hold your clap-dish, fasten your tongue Under your roof, and do not dare to call." For the word itself, .see Jonson, vol. i. p. 44. [Wlicre Gifford notices " the custom which prevailed in this country two or three centuries ago, and, not improbably, even so late as Jonson's time, when dis- eased or infectious wretches wandered up and down with a clap-dish, a wooden vessel with a movable cover, to give the charitable warn- ing at once of their necessities and their infectious condition. To this mode of begging our old writers frequently advert," &c. D.] SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 59 Col. My dear Ferentes, my betrothed lord ! Fer. \aside\ Excellent ! O, for three Barbary stone- horses to top three Flanders mares! — Why, how now, wenches ! what means this ? Mor. Out upon me ! here's more of his trulls. Jul. Love, you must go with me. Col. Good love, let's walk. Fer. \aside\ I must rid my hands of 'em, or they'll ride on my shoulders. — By your leave, ladies ; here's none but is of common counsel one with another ; in short, there are three of ye with child, you tell me, by me. All of you I cannot satisfy, nor, indeed, hand- somely any of ye. You all hope I should marry you j which, for that it is impossible to be done, I am con- tent to have neither of ye : for your looking big on the matter, keep your own counsels, I'll not bewray ye ; but for marriage, — heaven bless ye, and me from ye ! This is my resolution. Col. How, not me ! Jul. Not me ! Mor. Not me ! Fer. Nor you, nor you, nor you : and to give you some satisfaction, I'll jdeld you reasons. — You, Colona, had a pretty art in your dalliance \ but your fault was, you were too suddenly won. — You, Madam Morona, could have pleased well enough some three or four- and-thirty years ago ; but you are too old. — You, Julia, were young enough; but your fault is, you have a scurvy face. — Now, everyone knowing her proper defect, thank me that I ever vouchsafed you the honour of my bed once in your lives. If you want clouts, all I'll promise is to rip-up an old shirt or two. So, wishing a speedy deliverance to all your burdens, I commend you to your patience. \Exit. Mor. Excellent I 6o LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT in. Jul. Notable ! Col. Unmatched villain ! Jul. Madam, though strangers, yet we understand Your wrongs do equal ours ; which to revenge, Please but to join with us, and we'll redeem Our loss of honour by a brave exploit. Mor. I embrace your motion, ladies, with glad- ness, and will strive by any action to rank with you in any danger. Col. Come, gentlewomen, let's together, then. — Thrice-happy maids that never trusted men ! \Exeimt. Scene II. The state-room in the palace. Enter Duke, Rianca supported by Fernando, Fiormonda, Petruchio, Nibrassa, Ferentes, and D'Avolos. Duke. Roseilli will not come, then ! will not? well; His pride shall ruin him." — Our letters speak The duchess' uncle will be here to-morrow, — To-morrow, D'Avolos. UAv. To-morrow night, my lord, but not to make more than one day's abode here \ for his Holiness has commanded him to be at Rome the tenth of this month, the conclave of cardinals not being resolved to sit till his coming. Duke. Your uncle, sweetheart, at his next return Must be saluted cardinal. — Ferentes, Be it your charge to think on some device 7 Some months must liave elapsed since the Duke sent for Ro- seilh, whose pretended an.swcr he now learns for the first time. Our author plays as many stranjje tricks with the unities, as they are called, as any of his contemporaries. In this there may not, per- haps, be much to blame ; but I'"ord's peculiar fault is, that he always appears unconscious, or at least careless, of his want of congruity : the mention of Roseilli here, for instance, is altogether uncalled for, and merely adds one inconsistency more to the fable. SCENE ri. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 6 1 To entertain the present^ with dehght. Fern. My lord, in honour to the court of Pavy I'll join with you. Ferentes, not long since I saw in Brussels, at my being there, The Duke of Brabant welcome the Archbishop Of Mentz with rare conceit, even on a sudden, Perform'd by knights and ladies of his court. In nature of an antic f which methought — For that I ne'er before saw women-antics- — Was for the newness strange, and much commended. Bian. Now, good my Lord Fernando, further this In any wise ; it cannot but content. Fior. \aside\ If she entreat, 'tis ten to one the man Is won beforehand. Duke. Friend, thou honour'st me : But can it be so speedily perform'd ? Fern. I'll undertake it, if the ladies please, To exercise in person only that : And we must have a fool, or such an one As can with art well act him. Fior. I shall fit ye ; I have a natural. Fern. Best of all, madam : Then nothing wants. — You must make one, Ferentes. Fer. With my best service and dexterity. My lord. Pet. [aside to Nib.^ This falls out happily, Nibrassa. 8 To entertain the present] i. e. the present time. So in The Tempest, " If you can .... work the peace of the present, we will not hand a rope more." 3 In nature of an antic ;] i. e. of an anti-masque, in which the characters were always grotesque and extravagant. It will appear from the preparatory arrangements of this "antic" (for otherwise it is impossible to account for them), that Fernando had been made acquainted with the disgrace of his cousin Colona, and adopted licr plans of revenge. It must be confessed, however, that he has fallen upon a very extraordinary mode of "entertaining the Abbot of Mon- aco." 62 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act hi. Nib. [aside to Fe/.] We could not wish it better : Heaven is an unbrib'd justice. Duke. We'll meet our uncle in a solemn grace Of zealous presence, as becomes the church : See all the quire be ready, D'Avolos. UAv. I have already made your highness' pleasure known to them. Bian. Your lip, my lord ! Fern. Madam? Bian. Perhaps your teeth have bled ; wipe't with my handkercher : give me, I'll do't myself. — \Aside to Fern.] Speak, shall I steal a kiss? believe me, my lord, I long. Fern. Not for the world. Fior. [aside] Apparent impudence ! UAv. Beshrew my heart, but that's not so good. Duke. Ha, what's that thou mislikest, D'Avolos ? DAv. Nothing, my lord ; — but I was hammering a conceit of mine own, which cannot, I find, in so short a time thrive as a day's practice. Fior. [aside] Well put off, secretary. . Duke. We are too sad; methinks the life of mirth Should still be fed where we are : where's Mauruccio? Fer. An't please your highness, he's of late grown so affectionately inward with my Lady Marquess's fool, that I presume he is confident there are few wise men worthy of his society, who are not as innocently hann- less as that creature. It is almost impossible to sepa- rate them, and 'tis a question which of the two is the wiser man. Duke. 'Would he were here ! I have a kind of dul- ness Hangs on me since my hunting, that I feel As 'twere a disposition to be sick ; My head is ever aching. SCENE II. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 63 jyAv. A shrewd ominous token ; I like not that neither. Duke. Again ! what is't you like not ? UAv. I beseech your highness excuse me ; I am so busy with this^*^ frivolous project, and can bring it to no shape, that it almost confounds my capacity. Bian. My lord, you were best to try a set at maw:^^ I and your friend, to pass away the time, Will undertake your highness and your sister. Duke. The game's too tedious. Fior. 'Tis a peevish play ;^- Your knave will heave the queen out^^ or your king ; Besides, 'tis all on fortune. Enter Mauruccio with Roseilli disguised as before, and GiACOPO. Maur. Bless thee, most excellent duke ! I here present thee as worthy and learned a gentleman as ever I — and yet I have lived threescore years — con- versed with. Take it from me, I have tried him, and [he] is worthy to be privy-counsellor to the greatest 10 this] The4tohas "his." D. 11 a set at maw:] Gifford, by a strange oversight, printed " to set a maw." D. 12 ' Tis a peevish play; Your knave will heave your queen out] This game (maw) is treated with equal contempt, and nearly in the same terms, by Sir John Harington ; ' ' Then thirdly follow'd ' heaving of the maw, ' A game without civility or law ; An odious play, and yet in court oft seen, A saucy knave to trump both king and queen." I can give the reader no account of this " pcroish (pettish) play ;" it bears apparently some resemblance to reversi, a burlesque of whist, which, though unknown in this country, is a favourite game with the lower orders in France. I have frequently looked on, and seen the players slide the quinola, the knave of trumps, under the king or queen (both its inferiors), and heave them respectively out ot the circle. As the object is to lose as many tricks as possible, the game is sufficiently noisy and indecorous for a court. Ford adds, "Be- sides, 'tis all on fortune." This would apply very well to reversi. 64 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act hi. Turk in Christendom ; of a most apparent and deep understanding, slow of speech, but speaks to the pur- pose. — Come forward, sir, and appear before his high- ness in your own proper elements. Ros. Will — tye — to da new toate sure la now. Gia. A very senseless gentleman, and, please your highness, one that has a great deal of little wit, as they say. Maiir. O, sir, had you heard him, as I did, de- liver whole histories in the Tangay tongue, you would swear there were not such a linguist breathed again ; and did I but perfectly understand his language, I would be confident in less than two hours to distin- guish the meaning of bird, beast, or fish naturally as I myself speak Italian, my lord. Well, he has rare qualities ! Duke. Now, prithee, question him, Mauruccio. Maiir. I will, my lord. — Tell me, rare scholar, which, in thy opinion, Doth cause the strongest breath, garlic or onion. Gia. Answer him, brother-fool ; do, do ; speak thy mind, chuck, do. Ros. Have bid seen all da fine knack, and de, e, naghtye tat-tle of da kna-ve, dad la have so. Duke. We understand him not. Maur. Admirable, I protest, duke ; mark, O, duke, mark ! — What did I ask him, Giacopo ? Gia. What caused the strongest breath, garlic or onions, I take it, sir. Maur. Right, right, by Helicon ! and his answer is, that a knave has a stronger breath than any of 'em : wisdom — or I am an ass — in the highest ; a direct figure ; put it down, Giacopo. Duke. How happy is that idiot whose ambition Is but to eat and sleep, and shun the rod I SCENE II. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 65 Men that have more of wit, and use it ill, Are fools in proof. Bian. True, my lord, there's many Who think themselves most wise that are most fools. UAv. Bitter girds,^^ if all were known ; — but — Duke. But what ? speak out ; plague on your mut- tering, grumbling ! I hear you, sir ; what is't ? D'Av. Nothing, I protest, to your highness perti- nent to any moment. Duke. Well, sir, remember. — Friend, you promis'd study. — • I am not well in temper. — Come, Bianca. — Attend our friend, Ferentes. [Exeunt ail but Fern. Ros. Fer. and Maur. Fern. Ferentes, take Mauruccio in with you ; He must be one in action. Fer. Come, my lord, I shall entreat your help. Fern. I'll stay the fool, And follow instantly. Maur. Yes, pray, my lord. [Exeunt Fer. and Maur. Fern. How thrive your hopes now, cousin ? Ros. Are we safe ? Then let me cast myself beneath thy foot. True, virtuous lord. Know, then, sir, her proud heart Is only fix'd on you, in such extremes Of violence and passion, that I fear. Or she'll enjoy you, or she'll ruin you. 1* Bitter girds,] i.e. sarcasms, strokes of satire. Ford has con- trived, by several direct quotations from Shakespeare, to put the reader in mind of lago, to whom, for his misfortune, D'Avolos bears about the same degree of resemblance that the poor Duke does to Othello. D'Avolos, in short, is a mere spy, a pander to the bad pas- sions of others, without one supportable quality to redeem the base- ness of his sycophancy, or relieve the dull uniformity of his malice. VOL. II. 1' 66 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act hi. Fern. Me, coz ? by all the joys I wish to taste, She is as far beneath my^^ thought as I In soul above her malice. Ros. I observ'd Even now a kind of dangerous pretence^^ In an un jointed phrase from D'Avolos. I know not his^*^ intent ; but this I know, He has a working brain, is minister To all my lady's counsels ; and, my lord, Pray heaven there have not anything befall'n Within the knowledge of his subtle art To do you mischief ! Fern. Pish ! should he or hell Affront me in the passage of my fate, I'd crush them into atomies. Ros. I do admit you could : meantime, my lord, Be nearest to yourself; what I can learn, You shall be soon infomi'd of : here is all We fools can catch the wise in, — to unknot, By privilege of coxcombs,^'^ what they plot. [Exeunt. Scene III. Another room in the same. Enter Duke and D'AvOLOS. Duke. Thou art a traitor : do not think the gloss Of smooth evasion, by your cunning jests " my\ The 410 has " thy." D. IS a kind of dangerous pretence] i. e. intent, design. Thus, in Macbeth ; "Against the undivulg'd //•eif^wa' I fight Of treasonous malice." Atomies, which occurs in the ne.vt speech, is frequently used by our old writers for atoms, motes, &c. '•"' his] The 4to has "hir." Gifford printed "her." D. 17 By privilege 0/ coxcombs,] i.e. of fool-caps. SCKNE III. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 67 And coinage of your politician's brain, Shall jig me off; I'll know't, I vow I will. Did not I note your dark abrupted ends Of words half-spoke? your "wells, if all were known"? Your short " I like not that"? your girds and "buts"? Yes, sir, I did ; such broken language argues More matter than your subtlety shall hide : Tell me, what is't ? by honour's self, I'll know. DAv. What would you know, my lord ? I con- fess I owe my life and service to you, as to my prince ; the one you have, the other you may take from me at your pleasure. Should I devise matter to feed your dis- trust, or suggest likelihoods without appearance ? what would you have me say ? I know nothing. Duke. Thou liest, dissembler ! on thy brow I read Distracted horrors figur'd in thy looks. On thy allegiance, D'Avolos, as e'er Thou hop'st to live in grace with us, unfold What by the^^ parti-halting of thy speech Thy knowledge can discover. By the faith We bear to sacred justice, we protest, Be it or good or evil, thy reward Shall be our special thanks and love unterm'd -P Speak, on thy duty ; we, thy prince, command. UAv. O, my disaster ! my lord, I am so charmed by those powerful repetitions of love and duty, that I cannot conceal what I know of your dishonour. Duke. Dishonour ! then my soul is cleft with fear ; I half presage my misery : say on, Speak it at once, for I am great with grief DAv. I trust your highness will pardon me ; yet I 18 the] The4tohas "thy." D. 19 a7id love unterm'd :] i. e. inexpressible, or rather, perhaps, in- terminable [the latter, surely. D.]. 68 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act hi. will not deliver a syllable which shall be less innocent than truth itself. Duke. By all our wish of joys, we pardon thee. DAv. Get from me, cowardly servility ! my service is noble, and my loyalty an armour of brass : in short, my lord, and plain discovery, you are a cuckold. Duke. Keep in the word,— a cuckold ! DAv. Fernando is your rival, has stolen your duchess' heart, murdered friendship, horns your head, and laughs at your horns. Duke. My heart is split ! DAv. Take courage, be a prince in resolution : I knew it would nettle you in the fire of your composi- tion, and was loth to have given the first report of this more than ridiculous blemish to all patience or mode- ration : but, O, my lord, what would not a subject do to approve his loyalty to his sovereign? Yet, good sir, take it as quietly as you can : I must needs say 'tis a foul fault ; but what man is he under the sun that is free from the career of his destiny? May be she will in time reclaim the errors of her youth ; or 'twere a great happiness in you, if you could not believe it; that's the surest way, my lord, in my poor counsel. Duke. The icy current of my frozen blood Is kindled up in agonies as hot As flames of burning sulphur. O, my fate ! A cuckold ! had my dukedom's whole inheritance Been rent, mine honours levell'd in the dust, So she, that wicked woman, might have slept Chaste in my bosom, 't had been all a sport. And he, that villain, viper to my heart. That he should be the man I^" death above utterance ! Take heed you prove this true. 20 That he should be the man !\ This hemistich is repeated in the 4to, apparently by mistake, as it destroys the metre. SCENE iir. LOVE'S SACKIFICE. 69 -D'Av. My lord,— Buke. If not, I'll tear thee joint by joint. — Phew ! methinks It should not be : — Bianca ! why, I took her From lower than a bondage : — hell of hells ! — See that you make it good. D''Av. As for that, 'would it were as good as I would make it ! I can, if you will temper your dis- tractions, but bring you where you shall see it ; no more. Duke. See it ! UAv. Ay, see it, if that be proof sufficient. I, for my part, will slack no service that may testify my sim- plicity. Duke. Enough. Enter Fernando. What news, Fernando ? Fern. Sir, the abbot Is now upon arrival ; all your servants Attend your presence. Duke. We will give him welcome As shall befit our love and his respect. Come, mine own best Fernando, my dear friend. \Exit with Fern. DAv. Excellent ! now for a horned moon. \Mu- sic within.'] But I hear the preparation for the enter- tainment of this great abbot. Let him come and go, that matters nothing to this ; whiles he rides abroad in hope to purchase a purple hat, our duke shall as earnestly heat the pericranion-^ of his noddle with a yellow hood at home. I hear 'em coming. -1 f>cricr(7Hio>i'\ Giffonl printed "pericranium." D. 70 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act in. Lotid ?tiusic. Enter Servants ^vith torches ; then the T)\ikt, fo/lo7oed by Fernando, Bianca, Fiormonda, Petruchio, and Nibrassa, at one door; ttuo Friars, the Abbot and Attendants, at the other. The Duke ar;/^ Abbot meet and salute; Bianca a7id the rest sa- lute, and are sainted; they rank themselves, and pass over the stage ; the Quire singing. On to your victuals; some of ye, I know, feed upon wormwood. [Kvit. Scene IV. Another apartment in the same. Enter Petruchio ayid Nibrassa with napkins, as from supper. Pet. The duke's on rising : are you ready ? ho ! [ Withiii\ All ready. Nib. Then, Petruchio, arm thyself with courage and resolution ; and do not slirink from being stayed on thy own virtue. Pet. I am resolv'd. — Fresh lights ! — I hear 'em com- ing. Enter Attendants tuith lights, before the Duke, Abbot, Bianca, Fiormonda, Fernando, and D'Avolo.s. Duke. Right reverend uncle, though our minds be scanted In giving welcome as our hearts would wish. Yet we will strive to show how much we joy Your presence with a courtly show of mirth. Please you to sit. Abbot. Great duke, your worthy honours . To me shall still have place in my best thanks : Since you in me so much respect the church. Thus much I'll promise, — at my next return SCENE IV. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 7 1 His Holiness shall grant [you] an indulgence Both large and general. Duke. Our humble duty ! — Seat you, my lords. — Now let the masquers enter. Enter, in an antic fashion, Ferentes, Roseilli, ajid Mauruccio at seve?'al doors; they dance a short time. Suddenly enter to them Colona, Julia, and Mo- RONA in odd shapes, and dafice: the meji gaze at them, are at a stand, and are i?ivited by the ■wo?7ien to dance. They dance together simdry cha?iges ; at last they close Ferentes in, — Mauruccio a?id Roseilli being shook off, and standing at several ends of the stage gazi?ig. The wome?i hold hands and dance about Ferentes in divers compVwiental offers of court- ship; at length they suddetily fall upon him and stab hi?n; he falls, and they riin out at several doors. The music ceases. Fer. Uncase me; I am slain in jest. A pox upon your outlandish feminine antics ! pull off my visor ; I shall bleed to death ere I have time to feel where I am hurt. — Duke, I am slain : off with my visor ; for heaven's sake, off with my visor ! Duke. Slain!— Take his^^ visor off \They unmask Ter.] : — we are betray'd : Seize on them ! two are yonder : hold Ferentes : Follow the rest : apparent treachery ! Abbot. Holy Saint Bennet, what a sight is this ! Re-enter Julia, Colona, and Morona unmasked, each tuith a child in her anfis. Jul. Be not amaz'd, great princes, but vouchsafe Your audience : we are they have done this deed. 22 his] The 410 has "this." D. y2 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act in. Look here, the pledges of this false man's lust, Betray'd in our simplicities : he swore, And pawn'd his truth, to marry each of us ; Abus'd us all ; unable to revenge Our public shames but by his public fall, Which thus we have contriv'd : nor do we blush To call the glory of this murder ours ; We did it, and we'll justify the deed ; For when in sad complaints we claim'd his vows, His answer was reproach : — Villain, is't true ? Col. I was too quickly wo?t, you slave ! Mor. I was too old, you dog ! Jul. I, — and I never shall forget the wrong, — I was 7iot fair enough ; not fair enough For thee, thou monster ! — let me cut his gall — Not fair enough ! O, scorn ! not fair enough / \Stabs him. Fer. O, O, O !— Duke. Forbear, you monstrous women ! do not add Murder to lust : your lives shall pay this forfeit. Fer. Pox upon all cod-piece extravagancy ! I am peppered— O, O, O '.—Duke, forgive me !— Had I rid any tame beasts but Barbary wild colts, I had not been thus23 jerked out of the saddle. My forfeit was in my blood ; and my life hath answered it. Vengeance on all wild whores, I say !— O, 'tis true— farewell, genera- tion of hackneys !— O ! \Dies. Duke. He is dead. To prison with those monstrous strumpets ! Pet. Stay; I'll answer for my daughter. Nib. And I for mine. — O, well done, girls ! "■' been thus\ Gifford printer! "thus been." D. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 73 Fern. I for yon gentlewoman, sir. Maiir. Good my lord, I am an innocent in the business. Duke. To prison with him f"^ Bear the body hence. Abbot. Here's fatal sad presages : but 'tis just He dies by murder that hath liv'd in lust. [Exeunt. ACT IV. Scene I. An apartment in the palace. Enter Duke, Fiormonda, atid D'AvoLos. Fior. Art thou Caraffa ? is there in thy veins One drop of blood that issu'd from the loins Of Pavy's ancient dukes ? or dost thou sit On great Lorenzo's seat, our glorious father, And canst not blush to be so far beneath The spirit of heroic ancestors ? Canst thou engross^ a slavish shame, which men Far, far below the region of thy state Not more abhor than study to revenge ? Thou an Italian ! I could burst with rage To think I have a brother so befool'd In giving patience to a harlot's lust. DAv. One, my lord, that doth so palpably, so apparently make her adulteries a trophy, whiles the ^'i Duke. To prison -with him !] i. e. with Mauruccio, the only innocent person of the party. This good prince seems determined, like the Cardinal in a former play, to have some one to punish. P'ew third acts can be found so uniformly reprehensible and disgusting as this : the only thing to praise in it is the promptitude with which the author has freed himself, in part, from the loathsome encumbrance of such a worthless rabble. 1 engross] See note, vol. i. p. 270. D. 74 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act iv. poting-stick^ to her unsatiate and more than goatish abomination jeers at and flouts your sleepish,^ and more than sleepish, security. Fior. What is she but the sallow-colour'd brat Of some unlanded bankrupt, taught to catch The easy fancies'* of young prodigal bloods In springes of her stew-instructed art ? — Here's your most virtuous duchess ! your rare piece ! UAv. More base in the infiniteness of her sensu- ality than corruption can infect : — to clip and inveigle your friend too ! O, unsufferable ! — a friend ! how of all men are you most unfortunate ! — to pour out your soul into the bosom of such a creature as holds it re- ligion to make your own trust a key to open the pass- age to your own wife's womb, to be drunk in the pri- vacies of your bed ! — think upon that, sir. Duke. Be gentle in your tortures, e'en for pity; For pity's cause I beg it. Fior. Be a prince ! " poting-stick] A potiiig, or, as it was more commonly called, a poking^s\\'ik, was a slender rod of bone or steel, for setting the plaits of ruffs, cuffs, &c. after starching. The name of this little implement grievously annoys old Stubbes ; it was given to it, he says, by the devil, who brought in the practice of starching. It might, perhaps, have been more elegant ; otherwise I do not see much amiss in it. Archdeacon Nares, in his valuable Glossary, quotes pofed ; on which he says, " I have seen this word only in the following instance, and do not exactly know its meaning ; ' He keepes a starcht gate, weares a formall ruffe, A nosegay, set face, and a poh'd cuffc.' Hcyiv. Brit. Troy, iv. 50." The meaning is clear enough : a cuff, of which the plaits had been starched and stiffened, and puffed-out by the poting-^WcV. My old schoolmaster wore a coat with a cuff of this kind ; it was large, and turned back very far on the sleeve. The good man had figured in it for half a century on Sundays ; but, I grieve to say, it excited in his latter days more mirth than reverence in the ungracious urchins who followed him to church. This note (otherwise of no value) may serve to show ih^aX poted cuffs came down, at least in the remote pro- vinces, to Queen Anne's days. 3 slccpisH\ Qy. "sheepish"? (observe the preceding "goatish"). D. ^ fainies] Gifford printed "fancy." D. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 75 Th'adst better, duke, thou hadst, been born a peasant. Now boys will sing thy scandal in the streets, Tune ballads to thy infamy, get money By making pageants of thee, and invent Some strangely-shap'd man-beast, that may for horns Resemble thee, and call it Pavy's Duke. Duke. Endless immortal plague ! UAv. There's the mischief, sir : in the meantime you shall be sure to have a bastard — of whom you did not so much as beget a little toe, a left ear, or half the further side of an upper lip — inherit both your throne and name : this would kill the soul of very patience itself. Duke. Forbear ; the ashy paleness of my cheek Is scarleted in ruddy flakes of wrath ; And like some bearded meteor shall suck up, With swiftest terror, all those dusky mists That overcloud compassion in our breast. You've rous'd a sleeping lion, whom no art, No fawning smoothness shall reclaim, but blood. And sister thou, thou Roderico, thou, From whom I take the surfeit of my bane. Henceforth no more so eagerly pursue To whet my dulness : you shall see Carafifa Equal his birth, and matchless in revenge. Fior. Why, now I hear you speak in majesty. DAr. And it becomes my lord most princely. Duke. Does it? — Come hither, sister. Thou art near In nature, and as near to me in love : I love thee, yes, by yon bright firmament, I love thee dearly. But observe me well : If any private grudge or female spleen, Malice or envy, or such woman's frailty. Have spurr'd thee on to set my soul on fire 76 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT iv. Without apparent certainty, — I vow, And vow again, by all [our] princely blood, Hadst thou a double soul, or were the lives Of fathers, mothers, children, or the hearts Of all our tribe^ in thine, I would unrip That womb of bloody mischief with these nails Where such a cursed plot as this was hatch'd. — But, D'Avolos, for thee — no more ; to work A yet more strong impression in my brain, You must produce an instance to mine eye Both present and apparent — nay, you shall — or — Fior. Or what? you will be mad? be rather wise; Think on Ferentes first, and think by whom The harmless youth was slaughter'd : had he liv'd, He would have told you tales : Fernando fear'd it ; And to prevent him, — under show, forsooth, Of rare device, — most trimly cut him off. Have you yet eyes, duke ? Duke. Shrewdly urg'd, — 'tis piercing. Fior. For looking on a sight shall split your soul, You shall not care : I'll undertake myself To do't some two days hence ; for need, to-night, But that you are in court. UAv. Right. Would you desire, my lord, to see them exchange kisses, sucking one another's lips, nay, begetting an heir to the dukedom, or practising more than the very act of adultery itself? Give but a little way by a feigned absence, and you shall find 'em — I blush to speak doing what : I am mad to think on't; you are most shamefully, most sinfully, most scornfully cornuted. Duke. D'ye play upon me ? as I am your prince, There's some shall roar for this ! Why, what was I, Both to be thought or made so vile a thing ? * tyibc\ The 4to has " Tribes ;" and so (3iffoi"d. D. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 77 Stay, Madam Marquess, — ho, Roderico, you, sir, — Bear witness that if ever I neglect One day, one hour, one minute, to wear out With toil of plot or practice of conceit My busy skull, till I have found a death More horrid than the bull of Phalaris, Or all the fabling poets' dreaming whips ; If ever I take rest, or force a smile Which is not borrow'd from a royal vengeance. Before I know which way to satisfy Fury and wrong, — nay, kneel down \They kneel\ — let me die More wretched than despair, reproach, contempt, Laughter, and poverty itself can make me ! Let's rise on all sides friends \They rise] : — now all's agreed : If the moon serve, some that are safe shall bleed.'' £/i^t;r BiANCA, Fernando, ^//rt' Morona. Bian. My lord the duke, — Duke. Bianca ! ha, how is't ? How is't, Bianca ? — What, Fernando ! — come, Shall's shake hands, sirs ? — 'faith, this is kindly done. Here's three as one : welcome, dear wife, sweet friend ! Z>'Av. [aside to Fior.] I do not like this now ; it shows scurvily to me. Biau. My lord, we have a suit; your friend and I — Z)uke. [aside] She puts my friend before, most kindly still. Bian. Must join — " // t/ie moon sen'c, some thai arc safe shall bleed.] In Ford's time, and indeed long before and after it, the days of the moon held to be propitious to bleeding were distinguished by particular marks ; and such was the absurd reliance on this ignorant medley of quackery and superstition, that few families would have ventured on the ope- ration on one of the dies nefasti. ^8 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act iv. Duke. What, 7tiust ? Bia7i. My lord !— Duke. Must join, you say — Bian. That you will please to set Mauruccio At liberty ; this gentlewoman here Hath, by agreement made betwixt them two, Obtain'd him for her husband : good my lord, Let me entreat ; I dare engage mine honour He's innocent in any wilful fault. Duke. Your honour, madam! now beshrew you for't, T' engage your honour on so slight a ground : Honour's a precious jewel, I can tell you; Nay, 'tis, Bianca; go to ! — D'Avolos, Bring us Mauruccio hither. DAv. I shall, my lord. \^Exit. Mor. I humbly thank your grace. FerJi. And, royal sir, since Julia and Colona, Chief actors in Ferentes' tragic end. Were, through their ladies' mediation, Freed by your gracious pardon ; I, in pity, Tender'd this widow's friendless misery; For whose reprieve I shall, in humblest duty, Be ever thankful. Re-enter D'Avolos with Mauruccio in rags, and GiACOPO weeping. Maur. Come you, my learned counsel, do not roar ; If I must hang, why, then, lament therefore •} You may rejoice, and both, no doubt, be great To serve your prince, when I am turn'd worms'-meat. 7 why, then, lament ihcrefirc P\ Tliis in Joiison is a sneer at Sliakespeare ; in Shakespeare, and every other writer, it is a synile at Marlowe. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 79 I fear my lands and all I have is begg'd f Else, woe is me, why should I be so ragg'd ? UAv. Come on, sir ; the duke stays for you. Maur. O, how my stomach doth begin to puke, When I do hear that only word, the duke ! Duke. You, sir, look on that woman : are you pleas'd, If we remit your body from the gaol, To take her for your wife ? Maur. On that condition, prince, with all my heart. Mor. Yes, I warrant your grace he is content. Duke. Why, foolish man, hast thou so soon forgot The public shame of her abused womb, Her being mother to a bastard's birth ? Or canst thou but imagine she will be True to thy bed who to herself was false ? Gia. \to Maur.'\ Phew, sir, do not stand upon that; that's a matter of nothing, you know. Maur. Nay, an't shall please your good grace, an it come to that, I care not ; as good men as I have lien in foul sheets, I am sure ; the linen has not been much the worse for the wearing a little : I will have her with all my heart. Duke. And shalt. — Fernando, thou shalt have the grace To join their hands ; put 'em together, friend. Biajt. Yes, do, my lord ; bnng you the bridegroom hither ; I'll give the bride myself DAv. \_aside\ Here's argument to jealousy as good as drink to the dropsy ; she will share any disgrace with him : I could not wish it better. 8 my lands and all I have is begg'd :\ As a condemned person : there were greedy courtiers enough in those days to scramble for the property of a falhng man, even before the period of legal condem- nation. 8o LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act iv. Diike. Even so : well, do it. Fern. Here, Mauruccio ; Long live a happy couple ! \He and Bian. join their hands. Duke. 'Tis enough ; Now know our pleasure henceforth. 'Tis our will, If ever thou, Mauruccio, or thy wife, Be seen within a dozen miles o' th' court, We will recal our mercy ; no entreat Shall warrant thee a minute of thy life : We'll have no servile slavery of lust Shall breathe near us ; dispatch, and get ye hence. — Bianca, come with me. — [^jr///(?] O, my cleft soul ! \Exeunt Dnke and Bian. Maur. How's that? must I come no more near the court ? Gia. O, pitiful ! not near the court, sir ! UAv. Not by a dozen miles, indeed, sir. Your only course, I can advise you, is to pass to Naples, and set up a house of carnality: there are very fair and frequent suburbs, and you need not fear the contagion of any pestilent disease, for the worst is very proper to the place. Fern. 'Tis a strange sentence. Fior. 'Tis, and sudden too. And not without some mystery. D'At. Will you go, sir? Maur. Not near the court ! Mor. What matter is it, sweetheart? fear nothing, love ; you shall have new change of apparel, good diet, wholesome attendance ; — and we will live like pigeons, my lord. Maur. Wilt thou forsake me, Giacopo ? Gia. I forsake ye ! no, not as long as I have a whole ear on my head, come what will come. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 8l Fior. Mauruccio, you did once proffer true love To me, but since you are more thriftier sped, For old affection's sake here take this gold ; Spend it for my sake. Fern. Madam, you do nobly, — And that's for me, Mauruccio. \They give /lim ?noney. D'Av. Will ye go, sir ? Maur. Yes, I will go ; — and I^ humbly thank your lordship and ladyship. — Pavy, sweet Pavy, farewell ! — Come, wife, — come, Giacopo : Now is the time that we away must lag, And march in pomp with baggage and with bag. O poor Mauruccio ! what hast thou misdone, To end thy life when life was new begun ? Adieu to all ; for lords and ladies see My woful plight and squires of low degree ! JJAv. Away, away, sirs ! [^Exeunt all but Fior. and Fern. Nor. My Lord Fernando, — Fern. Madam ? Fior. Do you note My brother's odd distractions ? You were wont To bosom in his counsels : I am sure You know the ground of it.^° Fern. Not I, in troth. Fior. Is't possible ? What would you say, my lord, If he, out of some melancholy spleen, Edg'd-on by some thank-picking parasite, Should now prove jealous? I mistrust it shrewdly. Fer>i. What, madam ! jealous? Fior. Yes ; for but observe, A prince whose eye is chooser to his heart Is seldom steady in the lists of love, 9 /] Omitted by Gifford. D. 1" of if.'] The 4to has " on't" (against the metre). D. VOL. II. G 82 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act iv. Unless the party he affects do match His rank in equal portion or in friends : I never yet, out of report, or else By warranted description, have observ'd The nature of fantastic jealousy, If not in him ; yet, on my conscience now, He has no cause. Fern. Cause, madam ! by this light, I'll pledge my soul against a useless rush. Fior. I never thought her less; yet, trust me, sir. No merit can be greater than your praise : Whereat I strangely wonder, how a man Vow'd, as you told me, to a single life Should so much deify the saints from whom You have disclaim'd devotion. Fern. Madam, 'tis true ; From them I have, but from their virtues never. Fior. You are too wise, Fernando. To be plain, You are in love ; nay, shrink not, man, you are ; Bianca is your aim : why do you blush ? She is, I know she is. Fern. My aim ! Fior. Yes, yours ; I hope I talk no news. Fernando, know Thou runn'st to thy confusion, if in time Thou dost not wisely shun that Circe's charm. Unkindest man ! I have too long conceal'd My hidden flames, when still in silent signs I courted thee for love, without respect To youth or state ; and yet thou art unkind. Fernando, le.ave that sorceress, if not For love of me, for pity of thyself. Fern. \T.valks aside\ Injurious woman, I defy thy lust. 'Tis not your subtle sifting [that] shall creej) SCENE II. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 83 Into the secrets of a heart unsoil'd. — You are my prince's sister, else your mahce Had rail'd itself to death : but as for me, Be record all my fate, I do detest Your fury or affection : — ^judge the rest. [Exit. Fior. What, gone ! well, go thy ways : I see the more I humble my firm love, the more he shuns Both it and me. So plain ! then 'tis too late To hope ; change, peevish passion, to contempt ! Whatever rages in my blood I feel, Fool, he shall know I was not born to kneel. \Exit. Scene II. Another room in the same. Enter D'AvOLOS and ]\] 1.1 A. HAv. Julia, mine own, speak softly. What, hast thou learned out any thing of this pale widgeon?" speak soft ; what does she say ? Jul. Foh, more than all ; there's not an hour shall pass But I shall have intelligence, she swears. Whole nights — you know my mind ; I hope you'll give The gown you promis'd me. nAv. Honest Julia, peace ; thou'rt a woman worth a kingdom. Let me never be believed now but I think it will be my destiny to be thy husband at last : what though thou have a child, — or perhaps two? '1 this pale widgeon?] Colona, who was the duchess's attendant, as Julia was Fiormonda's. I know not what " whole nights" in the ne.xt speech refers to, unless it be part of Colona's intelligence, and mean that the duchess and Fernando have passed such together. D'Avolos finds just such an easy simpleton in Julia as Vasques does in Futana. \?^^.(t' Tis Pitv she s a Whore. D.] 84 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act iv. Jul. Never but one, I swear. UAv. Well, one ; is that such a matter ? I like thee the better for't ; it shows thou hast a good ten- antable and fertile womb, worth twenty of your bar- ren, dry, bloodless devourers of youth. — But come, I will talk with thee more privately ; the duke has a journey in hand, and will not be long absent : see, he is come already — let's pass away easily. \Exennt. Enter Duke and Bianca. Duke. Troubled? yes, I have cause. — O, Bianca ! Here was my fate engraven in thy brow, This smooth, fair, polish'd table ; in thy cheeks Nature summ'd up thy dower : 'twas not wealth, The miser's god, or royalty of blood, Advanc'd thee to my bed ; but love, and hope Of virtue that might equal those sweet looks : If, then, thou shouldst betray my trust, thy faith. To the pollution of a base desire, Thou wert a wretched woman. Bian. Speaks your love Or fear, my lord ? Duke. Both, both. Bianca, know, The nightly languish of my dull unrest Hath stamp'd a strong opinion ; for, methought, — Mark what I say, — as I in glorious pomp Was sitting on my throne, whiles I had hemm'd My best-belov'd Bianca in mine arms, She reach'd my cap of state, and cast it down Beneath her foot, and spurn'd it in the dust : Whiles I — O, 'twas a dream too full of fate ! — Was stooping down to reach it, on my head Fernando, like a traitor to his vows, Clapt, in disgrace, a coronet of horns. But, by the honour of anointed kings, SCENE II. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 85 Were both of you hid in a rock of fire, Guarded by ministers of flaming hell, I have a sword — 'tis here — should make my way Through fire, through darkness, death, [and hell,] and all. To hew your lust-engender'd flesh to shreds. Pound you to mortar, cut your throats, and mince Your flesh to mites : I will, — start not, — I will. Bian. Mercy protect me, will ye murder me ? Duke. Yes. — O, I cry thee mercy ! — How the rage Of my own dream' d-of wrongs^^ made me forget All sense of sufferance ! — Blame me not, Bianca ; * One such another dream would quite distract Reason and self-humanity : yet tell me, Was't not an ominous vision ? Bian. 'Twas, my lord, Yet but a vision ; for did such a guilt Hang on mine honour, 'twere no- blame in you, If you did stab me to the heart. Duke. The heart ! Nay, strumpet, to the soul ; and tear it off From life, to damn it in immortal death. Bian. Alas ! what do you mean, sir ? Duke. I am mad. — Forgive me, good Bianca ; still methinks I dream and dream anew : now, prithee, chide me. Sickness and these divisions so distract My senses, that I take things possible As if they were ; which to remove, I mean To speed me straight to Lucca, where, perhaps, 12 Of my Q\m dream d-of wrongs] He alludes to the preceding speech. The 410 reads " undream d of wrongs:" but this cannot be right, as the duke has just detailed the pretended dream in which he suffered them. A slighter change will give "e'en dream'dof," i. e. wrongs endured merely in a dream ; and this p(*rhaps will be thought the better reading. 86 LOVES SACRIFICE. act iv. Absence and bathing in those healthful springs May soon recover me ; meantime, dear sweet, Pity my troubled heart ; griefs are extreme : Yet, sweet, when I am gone, think on my dream. — Who waits without, ho ! Enter Petruchio, Nibrassa, Fiormonda, D'Avolos, RosEiLLi disguised as before, rt'//^/ Fernando. Is provision ready, To pass to Lucca ? Pet. It attends your highness. Duke. Friend, hold; take here from me this jewel, this : [Giz'es Bian. to Fern. Be she your care till my return from Lucca, Honest Fernando. — Wife, respect my friend. — Let's go : — but hear ye, wife, think on my dream. [Exeunt all but Eos. and Pet. Pet. Cousin, one word with you : doth not this cloud Acquaint you with strange novelties ? The duke Is lately much distemper'd : what he means By journeying now to Lucca, is to me A riddle ; can you clear my doubt ? Eos. (), sir. My fears exceed my knowledge, yet I note No less than you infer ; all is not well ; Would 'twere ! whosoe'er^^ thrive, I shall be sure Never to rise to my unhop'd desires. But, cousin, I shall tell you more anon : Meantime, pray send my Lord Fernando to me ; I covet much to speak with him. Pet. And see, He comes himself; I'll leave you both together. [Exit. '•'' 7v/iosoeer\ Gifford printed "whoever." D. SCENE 11. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 87 Re-enter Fernando. Fern. The duke is hors'd for Lucca. How now, coz, How prosper you in love? Ros. As still I hop'd.1*— My lord, you are undone. Fern. Undone ! in what ? Ros. Lost ; and I fear your life is bought and sold ; I'll tell you how. Late in my lady's chamber As I by chance lay slumbering on the mats, In comes the Lady Marquess, and with her Julia and D'Avolos ; where sitting down, Not doubting me, " Madam," quoth D'Avolos, " We have discover'd now the nest of shame." In short, my lord, — for you already know As much as they reported, — there was told The circumstance of all your private love And meetings with the duchess; when, at last. False D'Avolos concluded with an oath, " We'll make," quoth he, " his heart-strings crack for this." Fern. Speaking of me? Ros. Of you : " Ay," quoth the marquess, " Were not the duke a baby, he would seek Swift vengeance ; for he knew it long ago." Fern. Let him know it ; yet I vow She is as loyal in her plighted faith As is the sun in heaven : but put case She were not, and the duke did know she were not ; This sword lift up, and guided by this arm. Shall guard her from an armed troop of fiends And all the earth beside.^-' !■* As still I \io^^' di.\ i.e. apprehended, expected: seep. 53. !•' Fernando is a poor wTetched creature : he boasts and blus- ters incessantly of his prowess, and the reader is led to expect thai. 88 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act iv. ■Ros. You are too safe In your destruction. Fern. Damn him ! — he shall feel — But peace ! who comes ? Enter Colona. Col. My lord, the duchess craves A word with you. Fern. Where is she ? Col. In her chamber. Ros. Here, have a plum for ie'ee — Col. Come, fool, I'll give thee plums enow ; come, fool. Fern. Let slaves in mind be servile to their fears ; Our heart is high instarr'd in brighter spheres. \Exeujit Fern, and Col. Ros. I see him lost already. If all prevail not, we shall know too late No toil can shun the violence of fate. \_EAif. like another Drawcansir, he can upon occasion " control whole armies;" yet he is taken like a rat in a trap, with as little effort as Mauruccio. The Duke too roars and bellows in a similar key, and just as little to the purpose; but his starts are the impotency of dot- age raised to frenzy by the machinations of others. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 89 ACT V. Scene I. The palace. The Duchesses bedchamber. Bi ANCA discovered in her night-attire, leaning on a cushion at a table, holding Fernando by the hand. Enter above Fiormonda. Fior. [aside'] Now fly, revenge, and wound the lower earth, That I, inspher'd above, may cross the race Of love despis'd, and triumph o'er their graves Who scorn the low-bent thraldom of my heart ! Biaii. Why shouldst thou not be mine? why should the laws, The iron laws of ceremony, bar Mutual embraces ? what's a vow ? a vow ? Can there be sin in unity ? could I As well dispense with conscience as renounce The outside of my titles, the poor style Of duchess, I had rather change my life With any waiting-woman in the land To purchase one night's rest with thee, Fernando, Than be Caraffa's spouse a thousand years. Fior. [aside'] Treason to wedlock ! this would make you sweat. Fern. Lady, of alP * * * * * as before, * * * what I am, * * * *■******■* To survive you, or I will see you first Or widowed or buried : if the last, By all the comfort I can wish to taste, By your fair eyes, that sepulchre that holds J Fern. Lady, o/all, &.c.^ Here occurs one of the greatest lacunae in all Ford's works. Some lines appear to be quite lost, and the fragments of others that remain cannot be distributed with any cer- tainty. Even the concluding part of Fiormonda's speech should per- haps be transferred elsewhere. 9° LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT v. Your coffin shall incoffin me alive ; I sign it with this seal. [Xisses her. Fior. \aside\ Ignoble strumpet ! Bian. You shall not swear; take ofif that oath again, Or thus I will enforce it. \Kisscs him. Ferji. Use that force, And make me perjured ; for whiles your lips Are made the book, it is a sport to swear, And glory to forswear. Fior. \_aside\ Here's fast and loose ! Which, for a ducat, now the game's on foot? Whilst they are kissing, the Duke and D'Avolos, with their siaords dragon, appear at the door, followed by Petruchio, Nibrassa, and a Guard. Col. [7ciithin] Help, help ! madam, you are be- trayed, madam ; help, help ! F^Av. [aside to Fiike'\ Is there confidence in credit, now, sir ? belief in your own eyes ? do you see ? do you see, sir ? can you behold it without lightning ? Col. [within] Help, madam, help ! Fern. What noise is that ? I heard one cry. Duke [comes for7C>ard\ Ha ! did you ? Know you who I am ? Fern. Yes ; thou'rt Pavy's duke, Drest like a hangman :- see, I am unarm'd. Yet do not fear thee ; though the coward doubt Of what I could have done hath made thee steal Th' advantage of this time, yet, duke, I dare Thy worst, for murder sits upon thy cheeks : To't, man ! Duke. I am too angry in my rage To scourge thee unprovided. — Take him hence ; - a hanginaii] See note, vol. i. p. 180. D. SCENE r. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 91 Away with him ! '[The Guard seize Fern. Fern. Unhand me ! DAv. You must go, sir. Fern. Duke, do not shame thy manhood to lay hands On that most innocent lady.'* Duke. Yet again ! — Confine him to his chamber. [Fxeunt UAv. and the Guard with Fern. Leave us all ; None stay, not one; shut up the doors. \Exeu7it Pet. and Nib. Fior. Now show thyself my brother, brave Caraffa. Duke. Woman, stand forth before me ; — wretched whore, What canst thou hope for ? Bia7i. Death \ I wish no less. You told me you had dreamt ; and, gentle duke. Unless you be mistook, you're now awak'd. Duke. Strumpet, I am ; and in my hand hold up The edge that must uncut thy twist of life : Dost thou not shake ? Bian. For what ? to see a weak, Faint, trembling arm advance a leaden blade ? Alas, good man ! put up, put up ; thine eyes Are likelier much to weep than arms to strike : What would you do now, pray? Duke. What ! shameless harlot ! Rip up the cradle of thy cursed womb. In which the mixture of that traitor's lust Imposthumes for a birth of bastardy. * Our author seems to have very loose notions of female honour. He certainly goes much beyond his age, which was far enough from squeamish on this point, in terming Bianca innocent. She is, in fact, a gross and profligate adulteress, and her ridiculous resen-a- tions, while they mark her lubricity, only enhance her shame. 92 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT v. Yet come, and if thou think'st thou canst deserve One mite of mercy, ere the boundless spleen Of just-consuming wrath o'erswell my reason, Tell me, bad woman, tell me what could move Thy heart to crave variety of youth. Bian. I['ll] tell ye, if you needs would be resolv'd; I held Fernando much the properer man. Duke. Shameless, intolerable whore ! Bian. What ails you? Can you imagine, sir, the name of duke Could make a crooked leg, a scambling foot,* A tolerable face, a wearish hand, A bloodless lip, or such an untrimm'd beard As yours, fit for a lady's pleasure ? no : I wonder you could think 'twere possible, When I had once but look'd on your Fernando, I ever could love you again ; fie, fie ! Now, by my life, I thought that long ago Y' had known it, and been glad you had a friend Your wife did think so well of Duke. O my stars ! Here's impudence above all history. Why, thou detested reprobate in virtue, Dar'st thou, without a blush, before mine eyes Speak such immodest language ? Bia)i. Dare ! yes, 'faith, You see I dare : I know what you would say now ; You would fain tell me how exceeding much * a scambling /y(V,] i.e. a sprinol'mg, shuffJi)2g foot: wearish is used by our old writers for wizened, withered, decayed, &c. I have already remarked the similarity between this abandoned woman and Annabella : the same wantonness of abuse, the same audacious avowal of infamy, the same taunting provocation ; and all delivered in such a style of Pict-hatch eloquence as the veriest waistcoater of Ford's days would have shrunk from ; " verbis olido stans Fornicc mancipium (juibus abstinet." SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 93 I am beholding to you, that vouchsaf'd Me, from a simple gentlewoman's place, The honour of your bed : 'tis true, you did ; But why ? 'twas but because you thought I had A spark of beauty more than you had seen. To answer this, my reason is the like ; The self-same appetite which led you on To marry me led me to love your friend : O, he's a gallant man ! if ever yet Mine eyes beheld a miracle compos'd Of flesh and blood, Fernando has my voice. I must confess, my lord, that for a prince Handsome enough you are, [and — ] and no more ; But to compare yourself with him ! trust me. You are too much in fault. Shall I advise you ? Hark in your ear ; thank heaven he was so slow As not to wrong your sheets ; for, as I live, The fault was his, not mine. Fior. Take this, take all. Dicke. Excellent, excellent ! the pangs of death Are music to this. — Forgive me, my good Genius ; I had thought I match'd a woman, but I find she is A devil, worser than the worst in hell. — Nay, nay, since we are in, e'en come, say on ; I mark you to a syllable : you say The fault was his, not yours ; why, virtuous mistress, Can you imagine you have so much art Which may persuade me you and your close markman Did not a little traffic in my right ? Bian. Look, what I said, 'tis true ; for, know it now, — I must confess I miss'd no means, no time, To win him to my bosom ; but so much, So holily, with such religion, 94 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act v. He kept the laws of friendship, that my suit Was held but, in comparison, a jest ; Nor did I ofter urge the violence Of my affection, but as oft he urg'd The sacred vows of faith 'twixt friend and friend : Yet be assur'd, my lord, if ever language Of cunning servile flatteries, entreaties, Or what in me is, could procure his love, I would not blush to speak it. Duke. Such another As thou art, miserable creature, would Sink the whole sex of women : yet confess What witchcraft us'd the wretch to charm the heart'' Of the once spotless temple of thy mind ? For without witchcraft it could ne'er be done. Bian. Phew ! — an you be in these tunes, sir, I'll leave f You know the best and worst and all. Duke. Nay, then, Thou tempt'st me to thy ruin. Come, black angel. Fair devil, in thy prayers reckon up The sum in gross of all thy veined follies ;'' There, amongst other, weep in tears of blood For one above the rest, adultery! Adultery, Bianca ! such a guilt As, were the sluices of thine eyes let up, Tears cannot wash it off: 'tis not the tide 5 to charm the heart"] This reading has been made out of the old copy, which has " the art." I can think of no word nearer the traces of the original; and yet to "charm the heart of the temple of the mind" is an expression which will be as little admired as compre- hended. [Is "art" a mistake for "altar"? Afterwards we have " The altar of her purity," p. 99. D.] ^ r II leave i\ i.e. I'll leave off, say no more. — Gifford, misunder- standing the expression, printed " I'll leave [youj." D. 7 veintd follies i] i.e. ingrained, as we say; follies that nm in tin' blood. SCENE I. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 95 Of trivial wantonness from youth to youth, But thy abusing of thy lawful bed, Thy husband's bed; his in whose breast thou slept'st,^ His that did prize thee more than all the trash Which hoarding worldlings make an idol of. When thou shalt find the catalogue enroU'd Of thy misdeeds, there shall be writ in text Thy bastarding the issues of a prince. Now turn thine eyes into thy hovering soul, And do not hope for life ; would angels sing A requiem at my hearse but to dispense^ With my revenge on thee, 'twere all in vain : Prepare to die ! Bian. [opens her boso7ti\ I do ; and to the point Of thy sharp sword with open breast I'll run Halfway thus naked ; do not shrink, Carafifa; This daunts not me : but in the latter act Of thy revenge, 'tis all the suit I ask At my last gasp, to spare thy noble friend ; For life to me without him were a death. Duke. Not this ; I'll none of this ; 'tis not so fit. — Why should I kill her ? she may live and change, Or — \_T/iroius down his sword. Fior. Dost thou halt ? faint coward, dost thou wish To blemish all thy glorious ancestors ? Is this thy courage ? Duke. Ha ! say you so too ? — Give me thy hand, Bianca. Bian. Here. Duke. Farewell ; 8 slept'st,'] The 4to has " sleep'st ;" and so Gifford. D. ^ would aiigeh sing A requiem at my heai-se but to dispense, &c.] i.e. — if so plain a passage needs e.xplanation — Could I secure a happy immortality by sparing thy life, 1 wotild not forgo my revenge. g6 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act v. Thus go in everlasting sleep to dwell ! [I?raws his dagger and stabs her. Here's blood for lust, and sacrifice for wrong. Bian. 'Tis bravely done ; thou hast struck home at once : Live to repent too late. Commend my love To thy true friend, my love to him that owes it ; My tragedy to thee •}^ my heart to — to — Fernando. O— O ! \pies. Duke. Sister, she's dead. Fior. Then, whiles thy rage is warm Pursue the causer of her trespass. ^^ Duke. Good : I'll slack no time^- whiles I am hot in blood. \Takes up his sword and exit. Fior. Here's royal vengeance ! this becomes the state Of his disgrace and my unbounded hate.^^ \Exit above. Scene H. An apartment in the palace. Efi/er Fernando, Nibrassa, a«(/ Petruchio. Fet. May we give credit to your words, my lord ? Speak, on your honour. Fern. Let me die accurs'd, If ever, through the progress of my life, I did as much as reap the benefit 10 Afv tragedy to thee iX I have supposed that Bianca alludes to her husband ; but it is also possible that she may direct herself to Fiormonda, who from the gallery had urged-on her murder with such violence. "Owes" is used in this speech in the sense oi mu/ts, possesses. 11 trespass.]^ The 4to has " trespasses ;" and so Gifford. D. 12 I'll slack 710 time\ i.e. I'll hasten. 1^ my 7inho7inded hate.] So I venture to read. The 4to has " un- bounded /i^/r," whirli conveys no meaning. SCENE IT. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. gy Of any favour from her save a kiss : A better woman never bless'd the earth. Nib. Beshrew my heart, young lord, but I beUeve thee : alas, kind lady, 'tis a lordship to a dozen of points^^ but the jealous madman will in his fury offer her some violence. Pet. If it be thus, 'twere fit you rather kept A guard about you for your own defence Than to be guarded for security Of his revenge ; he is extremely mov'd. Nib. Passion of my body, my lord, if he come in his odd fits to you, in the case you are, he might cut your throat ere you could provide a weapon of de- fence : nay, rather than it shall be so, hold, take my sword in your hand ; 'tis none of the sprucest, but 'tis a tough fox^^ will not fail his master, come what will come. Take it ; I'll answer't, I : in the mean time Petruchio and I will back to the duchess' lodging. \Gives Fern, his sword. Pet. Well thought on; — and, despite^*^ of all his rage. Rescue the virtuous lady. Nib. Look to yourself, my lord ! the duke comes. Enter the Duke, a sword in one hand, and a bloody dagger in the other. Duke. Stand, and behold thy executioner, Thou glorious traitor ! I will keep no fonn Of ceremonious law to try thy guilt : !•• points] See note, vol. i. p. 292. D. 15 'tis a tough fox] A cant term for a sword. So in Beaumont and Fletcher ; " Fall. Put up your sword ; I've seen it often ; 'tis a. fox. Jac. It is so." The Captain . i« a«af, rf«/2/(?] The 4to has " and\x\dcspight ■■:mAioQ\SQxA. D. VOL. II. H 98 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT v. Look here, 'tis written on my poniard's point, The bloody evidence of thy untruth, Wherein thy conscience and the wrathful rod Of heaven's scourge for lust at once give up The verdict of thy crying villanies. I see thou'rt arm'd : prepare, I crave no odds Greater than is the justice of my cause ; Fight, or I'll kill thee. Fern. Duke, I fear thee not : But first I charge thee, as thou art a prince. Tell me how hast thou us'd thy duchess ? Duke. How ! To add affliction to thy trembling ghost, Look on my dagger's crimson dye, and judge. Fern. Not dead ? Duke. Not dead ! yes, by my honour's truth : why, fool. Dost think I'll hug my injuries ? no, traitor ! I'll mix your souls together in your deaths. As you did both your bodies in her life.— Have at thee ! Fern. Stay ; I yield my weapon up. \He drops his sword. Here, here's my bosom : as thou art a duke, Dost honour goodness, if the chaste Bianca Be murder'd, murder me. Duke. Faint-hearted coward, Art thou so poor in spirit ! Rise and fight; Or, by the glories of my house and name, I'll kill thee basely. Fern. Do but hear me first : Unfortunate Carafifa, thou hast butcher'd An innocent, a wife as free from lust As any terms of art can deify. Duke. Pi.sh, this is stale dissimulation ; SCENE II. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 99 I'll hear no more. Fern. If ever I unshrin'd The altar of her purity, or tasted More of her love than what without control Or blame a brother from a sister might, Rack me to atomies. I must confess I have too much abus'd thee ; did exceed In lawless courtship ; 'tis too true, I did : But, by the honour which I owe to goodness, For any actual folly I am free. Duke. 'Tis false : as much in death for thee she spake. Fern. By yonder starry roof, 'tis true. O duke ! Couldst thou rear up another world like this, Another like to that, and more, or more. Herein thou art most wretched ; all the wealth Of all those worlds could not redeem the loss Of such a spotless wife. Glorious Bianca, Reign in the triumph of thy martyrdom ; Earth was unworthy of thee ! Nib. Pet. Now, on our lives, we both believe him. Duke. Fernando, dar'st thou swear upon my sword To justify thy words ? Fern. I dare ; look here. \_Kisses the siuorcL 'Tis not the fear of death doth prompt my tongue. For I would wish to die ; and thou shalt know, Poor miserable duke, since she is dead, I'll hold all life a hell. Duke. Bianca chaste ! Fern. As virtue's self is good. Duke}' Chaste, chaste, and kill'd by me ! to her I offer up this remnant of my — \Offers to stab himself^ and is stayed by Fern. 1' Dukc.\ From the first line of this speech (wliicli is arranged as above in the 4to) something appears to have dropt out. D. lOO LOVE'S SACRIFICE. ACT V. Fern. Hold ! Be gentler to thyself. Pet. Alas, my lord, Is this^^ a wise man's carriage ? Duke. Whither now Shall I nm from the day, where never man, Nor eye, nor eye of heaven may see a dog So hateful as I am ? Bianca chaste ! Had not the fury of some hellish rage Blinded all reason's sight, I must have seen Her clearness in her confidence to die. Your leave — \K71eels, holds up his hands^ and, after speaking to himself a little, rises. 'Tis done : come, friend, now for her love, Her love that prais'd thee in the pangs of death, I'll hold thee dear. — Lords, do not care for me, I am too wise to die yet. — O, Bianca ! Enter D'Avolos. UAv. The Lord Abbot of Monaco, sir, is, in his return from Rome, lodged last night late in the city very privately; and hearing the report of your journey, only intends to visit your duchess to-morrow. Duke. Slave, torture me no more ! — Note him, my lords; If you would choose a devil in the shape Of man, an arch-arch-devil, there stands one. — We'll meet our uncle. — Order straight, Petruchio, Our duchess may be coffin'd ; 'tis our will She forthwith be interr'd, with all the speed And privacy you may, i' th' college-church Amongst Caraffa's ancient monuments: 18 Is this\ The 4to has " this is." D. SCENE III. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. lOi Some three days hence we'll keep her funeral. — Damn'd villain ! bloody villain ! — O, Bianca ! — No counsel from our cruel wills can win us ; But ills once done, we bear our guilt within us. [Exeunt all but DAv. UAv. Good b'wi'ye ! Arch-arch-devil ! why, I am paid. Here's bounty for good service ! beshrew my heart, it is a right princely reward. Now must I say my prayers, that I have lived to so ripe an age to have my head stricken off. I cannot tell •}'^ 't may be my Lady Fiormonda will stand on my behalf to the duke : that's but a single hope f-^ a disgraced courtier oftener finds enemies to sink him when he is falling than friends to relieve him. I must resolve to stand to the hazard of all brunts now. Come what may, I will not die like a coward f^ and the world shall know it. \Exit. Scene III. Another apartment in the same. Enter FiORMONDA, and Roseilli discovering himself. Ros. Wonder not, madam ; here behold the man Whom your disdain hath metamorphosed. Thus long have I been clouded in this shape, Led on by love ; and in that love, despair : If not the sight of our distracted court. Nor pity of my bondage, can reclaim The greatness of your scorn, yet let me know My latest doom from you. 19 I cannot tell ^ i.e. I know not what to think. For more ex- amples of this mode of expression, which has been grossly misunder- stood, see Jonson, vol. i. p. 125. 20 that's but a single hope ,•] Weak, feeble : see vol. i. p. 173. 21 coward ■\ The 410 has "Cow ;" nor did Gifford alter it. D. I02 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act v. Fior. Strange miracle ! Roseilli, I must honour thee : thy truth, Like a transparent mirror, represents My reason with my errors. Noble lord, That better dost deserve a better fate. Forgive me : if my heart can entertain Another thought of love, it shall be thine. Ros. Blessed, for ever blessed be the words ! In death you have reviv'd me. Enter D'Avolos. UAv. \asidc\ Whom have we here ? Roseilli, the supposed fool ? 'tis he ; nay, then, help me a brazen face ! — My honourable lord ! — Ros. Bear off, bloodthirsty man ! come not [thou] near me. jyAv. Madam, I trust the service — Fior. Fellow, learn to new-live : the way to thrift For thee in grace"- is a repentant shrift. Ros. Ill has thy life been, worse will be thy end : Men flesh'd in blood know seldom to amend. Enter Servant. Ser. His highness commends his love to you, and expects your presence ; he is ready to pass to the church, only staying for my lord abbot to associate him. — Withal, his pleasure is, that you, D'Avolos, for- bear to rank in this solemnity in the place of secretary; else to be there as a private man. — Pleaseth you to go ? \Exetmt all but UAv. UAv. As a private man ! what remedy ? This way '-'-■ the way to thrift For thee in grace, &c.] i. e. the way for (liee to thrive in grace is, &c. SCENE III. LOVES SACRIFICE. 103 they must come ; and here I will stand, to fall amongst 'em in the rear. A solemn strain of soft music. The scene opens, and dis- covers the church, with a tomb in the background. Enter Attendants with torches, after them two Friars \ then the Duke in mourning manner; after him the Abbot, FlORMONDA, COLONA, JULIA, ROSEILLI, Petruchio, Nibrassa, and a Guard. — D'Avolos follows. When the procession approaches the tomb they all kneel. The Duke goes to the tomb, and lays his hand on it. The music ceases. Duke. Peace and sweet rest sleep here ! Let not the touch Of this my impious hand profane the shrine Of fairest purity, which hovers yet About those-^ blessed bones inhears'd within. If in the bosom of this sacred tomb, Bianca, thy disturbed ghost doth range, Behold, I offer up the sacrifice Of bleeding tears, shed from a faithful spring. Pouring^* oblations of a mourning heart To thee, offended spirit ! I confess I am Carafifa, he, that wretched man. That butcher, who, in my enraged spleen, Slaughter'd the life of innocence and beauty. Now come I to pay tribute to those wounds Which I digg'd up, and reconcile the wrongs My fury wrought and my contrition mourns. So chaste, so dear a wife was never man But I enjoy'd ; yet in the bloom and pride Of all her years untimely took her life. — 23 those] Gilford printed " these." D. -^ Pouring] The 4to has " Roaring." D. I04 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act v. Enough : set ope the tomb, that I may take My last farewell, and bury griefs with her. [^The tomb is opened, out of which rises Fer- 7iando in his winding-sheet, only his face dis- covered, and as the Duke is going in, puts him back. Fern. Forbear ! what art thou that dost rudely press Into the confines of forsaken graves? Has^^ death no privilege ? Com'st thou, Carafifa, To practise yet a rape upon the dead ? Inhuman tyrant ! — Whats'ever thou intendest, know this place Is pointed out for my inheritance ; Here lies the monument of all my hopes : Had eager lust intrunk'd my conquer'd soul, I had not buried living joys in death. Go, revel in thy palace, and be proud To boast thy famous murders ; let thy smooth, Low-fawning parasites renown thy act : Thou com'st not here. Duke. Fernando, man of darkness. Never till now, before these dreadful sights. Did I abhor thy friendship : thou hast robb'd My resolution of a glorious name. Come out, or, by the thunder of my rage, Thou diest a death more fearful than the scourge Of death can whip thee with. Fern. Of death ! — poor duke ! Why, that's the aim I shoot at j 'tis not threats — Maugre thy power, or-*^ the spite of hell — Shall rent^^ that honour : let life-hugging slaves, 25 Has\ Gifford printed "Hath." D. 26 or\ Thc4tohiis "of." D. 27 rcnt\ Gifford printed "rend." See note, vol. i. p. 194. D. SCENE III. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 105 Whose hands imbru'd in butcheries like thine Shake terror to their souls, be loth to die ! See, I am cloth'd in robes tliat fit the grave : I pity thy defiance. Duke. Guard, lay hands, And drag him out. Fern. Yes, let 'em ; here's my shield ; Here's health to victory ! — \As the Giim-d go to seize him, he drinks-offa phial of poison. Now do thy worst. — Farewell, duke ! once I have outstripp'd thy plots f^ Not all the cunning antidotes of art Can warrant me twelve minutes of my life : It works, it works already, bravely ! bravely ! — Now, now I feel it tear each several joint. royal poison ! trusty friend ! split, split Both heart and gall asunder, excellent bane ! — Roseilli, love my memory. — Well search'd out, Swift, nimble venom ! torture every vein. — 1 come, Bianca — cruel torment, feast, Feast on, do ! — Duke, farewell. — Thus I — hot flames ! — Conclude my love, — and seal it in my bosom ! — O ! [Dies. Abbot. Most desperate end ! Duke. None stir ; Who steps a foot steps to his utter ruin. — And art thou gone, Fernando ? art thou gone ? Thou wert a friend unmatch'd ; rest in thy fame. — Sister, when I have finish'd my last days. Lodge me, my wife, and this unequall'd friend, 28 once / have outstripp'd thy plots ;\ i.e. oiicc for all, finally, effectually ; a sense which the word frequently bears in our old writers. lo6 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act v. All in one monument. — Now to my vows. Never henceforth let any passionate tongue Mention Bianca's and Caraffa's name, But let each letter in that tragic sound Beget a sigh, and every sigh a tear : Children unborn, and widows whose lean cheeks Are furrow'd-up by age, shall weep whole nights, Repeating but the story of our fates ; Whiles in the period, closing up their tale, They must conclude how for Bianca's love Carafifa, in revenge of wrongs to her, Thus on her altar sacrific'd his life. [Sfal>s himself. Abbot. O, hold the duke's hand ! Fior. Save my brother, save him ! Duke. Do, do ; I was too willing to strike home To be prevented. Fools, why, could you dream I would outlive my outrage? — Sprightful flood, Run out in rivers ! O, that these thick streams Could gather head, and make a standing pool, That jealous husbands here might bathe in blood ! So ! I grow sweetly empty ; all the pipes Of life unvessel life. — Now, heavens, wipe out The writing of my sin ! — Bianca, thus I creep to thee — to thee — to thee, Bi — an — ca. {Dies. Ros. He's dead already, madam. DAv. \ciside\ Above hope ! here's labour saved ; I could bless the Destinies. Abbot. 'Would I had never seen it ! Fior. Since 'tis thus, My Lord Roseilli, in the true requital Of your continu'd love, I here i)ossess You of the dukedom, and with it of me, In presence of this holy abbot. Abbot. Lady, then. SCENE in. LOVE'S SACRIFICE. 107 From my hand take your husband ; long enjoy \_/oins their hands. Each to each other's comfort and content ! All. Long hve RoseiUi ! Ros. First, thanks-' to heaven ; next, lady, to your love ; Lastly, my lords, to all : and that the entrance Into this principality may give Fair hopes of being worthy of our place, Our first work shall be justice. — D'Avolos, Stand forth. UAv. My gracious lord ! — Ros. No, graceless villain ! I am no lord of thine. — Guard, take him hence. Convey him to the prison's top ; in chains Hang him alive ; whosoe'er^*^ lends a bit Of bread to feed him dies. — Speak not against it, I will be deaf to mercy. — Bear him hence ! JJAv. Mercy, new duke ! here's my comfort, I make but one in the number of the tragedy of princes. \IIe is led off'. Ros. Madam, a second charge is to perform Your brother's testament; we'll rear a tomb To those unhappy lovers, which shall tell Their fatal loves to all posterity. — Thus, then, for you ; henceforth I here dismiss The mutual comforts of our marriage-bed : Learn to new-live, my vows unmov'd shall stand ; And since your life hath been so much uneven, Bethink in time to make your peace with heaven. Fior. O, me ! is this your love ? Ros. 'Tis your desert ; Which no persuasion shall remove. =» l/iaii/cs'] The 4to has " Ihanke." D. •""^ 2ufiosoeer\ Gifford printed "whoever." D. lo8 LOVE'S SACRIFICE. act v. Abbot. 'Tis fit \ Purge frailty with repentance. Fior. I embrace it : Happy too late, since lust hath made me foul, Henceforth I'll dress my bride-bed in my soul. Ros. Please you to walk. Lord Abbot ? Abbot. Yes, set on. No age hath heard, nor^^ chronicle can say. That ever here befell a sadder day. \Exeunt. 31 nor\ Gifford printed "or." D. The catastrophe of this drama does not shame its progress. Enough, indeed, are left to bury the dead, but the mortality is nearly as widely spread as in 'Tis Pity she's a Whore ; and, to confess the truth, had all the survivors, with the exception of the Abbot, been involved in the same fate, no one would have "raised the waters" for them. Roseilli had hitherto preserved some of our esteem ; but his treatment of Fiormonda, who had done nothing to excite his displeasure, except giving him the dukedom, with herself, since he exclaimed, upon her promise of kindness, " Blessed, for ever blessed be the words ! In death you have reviv'd me," reduces him to a level with the rest. It is useless to observe on the other characters ; the duchess dying in odour of chastity, after con- fessing and triumphing in her lascivious passion ; the poor duke, in defiance of it, affirming that " no man was ever blest with so good and loving a wife," and falling upon his sword, that he may the sooner share her tomb, together with his "unequalled friend," who so zealously had laboured to dishonour him ; with other anomalies of a similar kind, — render this one of the least attractive of Ford's pieces. It is not, however, without its beauties : many scenes are charmingly written for the greater part; and few of our author's works contain more striking examples of liis characteristic merits and defects. It was received, the title-page says, generally well ; an ex- pression of which it would be hazardous to fix the precise import ; but the author and his friends appear to have regarded it with com- placency. PERKIN WARBECK. The title of the old 4to is "The Chronicle Historic of Perk in Warbeck. A Strange Truth. Acted (some-times) by the Queenes Maiestics Servants at the PlicEnix in Drurie lane. Fide Honor. Lon- don, Printed by T. P. for Hugh Beeston, and are to be sold at his Shop, neere the Castle in Cornehill, 1634." Here again we have the poet's anagram, Fide Honor. It was reprinted in 1714 in i2mo, when the nation was in a state of disquietude from insurgent movements in Scotland. In 1745 it appears to have been brought out at Goodman's Fields, on occasion, Oldys says, of the present rebellion under the Pretender's eldest son. Nothing is said of its reception : it could scarcely be very favourable at such a period ; for, to the reproach of the judgment of those who brought it forward, it is calculated to defeat the very object which they had in view, and to excite a compassionate feeling — not for the king upon the throne, but for his youthful competitor.^ 1 " There are now, in December 1745, on occasion of the present rebellion under the Pretender's eldest son, two plays, near finished, on this story of Perkin Warbeck ; one by Charles Macklin the player, the other by Mr. Jose]5h Elderton, a young attorney ; the former for Drury Lane, the latter at Covent Garden ; but this play of John Ford's has got the start of them at Goodman's Fields. Macklin's was a silly performance, and was soon dismissed, he being twenty pounds out of pocket by acting it, yet got it printed. Elderton's was not finished before it was too late in the season to act it ; and when the rebellion was suppressed in the field, it was thought unreason- able to revive it on the stage. Macklin's was called by the foolish title of 'King Henry VII., or the Popish Impostor;' popery being looked on as no objection in that reign. Elderton's was called 'The Pre- tender.' " Ms. Notes to Langhainc, by Oldys. My kind old friend Mr. Waldron, with whom perished more in- teresting and amusing theatrical history than can perhaps now be found on the stage, told me that Badeley the actor gave him the following anecdote ; " I was sitting one evening at the Cider-Cellar with Macklin, and incidentally observed (for I was not very deeply read in theatrical history), that I wondered there had not been a play written on the story of I'crkin Warbeck. ' There has, sir," gruffly re- plied Macklin. 'Indeed! and how did it succeed?' ' It was damned, sir.' 'Bless me! it must have been very ill written, then— such a story ! Pray, Mr. Macklin, who was the stupid author?' 'I, sir!' roared the veteran, in a tone that took away, continued Badeley, all desire to continue the conversation." TO THE rightly'-' HONOUKABLE WILLIAM CAVENDISH, EARL OF NEWCASTLE, VISCOUNT MANSFIELD, LORD BOLSOVER AND OGLE. 3 My Lord, Out of the darkness of a former age, — enlightened by a late both learned and an honourable pen,'* — I have endeavoured to personate a great attempt, and in it a greater danger. In other labours you may read ac- tions of antiquity discoursed ; in this abridgment find the actors themselves discoursing, in some kind prac- ~ rightly\ Gifford printed "right." D. 3 "William Cavendish (nephew to the first Earl of Devonshire), Lord Ogle," Colhns says, "jure matenio, was born in the year 1592, and was early in favour with James I., by whom he was made a Knight of the Bath in 1610, and created a peer by the title of Vis- coimt Mansfield in 1623. He continued in favour with Charles I., who created him Earl of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 1628, and Marquis six [sixteen?] years afterwards. In 1638 the king assigned him the office of governor to the Prince of Wales. His exertions in favour of the royal cause during the rebellion are too well known to require any notice in this place. He was created Duke of Newcastle in 1665, and died in 1676, at the advanced age of 84." So much is said of the Duke of Newcastle in the Introduction to the Works of Den Jon- son, that it may suffice to refer the reader who is desirous of learning more of so distinguished a nobleman to that collection. See vols. i. and ix. * learned and an honourable pen,] That of the great Lord Ra- con. He alludes to his History of Kim; Henry VII. 112 DEDICATION. tised as well what to speak as speaking 7vhy to do. Your lordship is a most competent judge in expres- sions of such credit; commissioned by your known ability in examining, and enabled by your knowledge in determining, the monuments of time.^ Eminent titles may, indeed, inform ivho their owners are, not often what. To yours the addition of that informa- tion in both cannot in any application be observed flattery, the authority being established by truth. I can only acknowledge the errors in writing mine own; the worthiness of the subject written being a perfec- tion in the story and of it. The custom of your lord- ship's entertainments — even to strangers — is rather an example than a fashion : in which consideration I dare not profess a curiosity; but am only studious that your lordship will please, amongst such as best honour your goodness, to admit into your noble construction John Ford. 5 the monuments t)/"time.] i.e. such as are destined to live to future ages ; a compliment somewhat too high even for this great and good man, whose judgment in matters of mere literature never possessed that commanding influence which the grateful poet seems inclined to endow him with. DRAMATIS PERSONS. Henry VII. Lord Dawbeney. Sir William Stanley, lord chamberlain. Earl of Oxford. Earl of Surrey. Fox, bi.shop of Durham. UR.SWICK, chaplain to the king. Sir Robert Clifford. Lambert Simnel. H1ALA.S, a Spanish agent. James IV., king of Scotland. Earl of Huntley. Earl of Crawford. Lord Dalyell. Marchmont, a herald. Perkin Warbeck. Stephen Prion, his secretary. John A-Water, mayor of Cork. Heron, a mercer. Skelton, a tailor. Astley, a scrivener. Lady Katherine Gordon. Countess of Crawford. Jane Douglas, Lady Katherine 's attendant. Sheriff, Constables, Officers, Guards, Servingmen, Masquers, and Soldiers. SCKNK-Par//y in England, partly in Scotland. VOL. IT. PROLOGUE. Studies have of this nature been of late So out of fashion, so unfollow'd, that It is become more justice to revive The antic folUes of the times than strive To countenance wise industry : no want Of art doth render wit or lame or scant Or slothful in the purchase of fresh bays ; But want of truth in them who give the praise To their self-love, presuming to out-do The writer, or — for need — the actors too. But such this" author's silence best befits, Who bids them be in love with their own wits. From him to clearer judgments we can say He shows a history couch'd in a play ; A history of noble mention, known, ' Famous, and true ; most noble, 'cause our own ; Not forg'd from Italy, from France, from Spain, But chronicled at home ; as rich in strain Of brave attempts as ever fertile rage In action could beget to grace the stage. We cannot limit scenes, for the whole land Itself appear'd too narrow to withstand Competitors for kingdoms ; nor is here Unnecessary mirth forc'd to endear A multitude : on these two rests the fate Of worthy expectation, — truth and state. « this] Gifford printed "the." D. PERKIN WARBECK. ACT I. Scene I. Westminster. The royal presence-chamber. Enter King Henky, supported to the throne by the Bishop of Dur- ham and Sir William Stanley ; Earl of Oxford, Earl of Surrey, and Lord Dawbeney. A Guard. K. Hen. Still to be haunted, still to be pursu'd, Still to be frighted with false apparitions Of pageant majesty and new-coin'd greatness, As if we were a mockery king in state, Only ordain'd to lavish sweat and blood. In scorn and laughter, to the ghosts of York, Is all below our merits ■} yet, my lords, My friends and counsellors, yet we sit fast In our own royal birthright ; the rent face And bleeding wounds of England's slaughter'd people Have been by us, as by the best physician, At last both throughly cur'd and set in safety; And yet, for all this glorious work of peace, 1 Ford Ikis closely followed Lord Bacon : iiere we have almost his very words ; "At this time the king began again to be haunted with sprites by the magic and curious arts of the Lady Margaret, who raised up the ghost of Richard duke of York, second son to King Edward the Fourth, to walk and vex the king," &c. Il8 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT i. Ourself is scarce secure. Dur. The rage of malice Conjures fresh spirits with the spells of York. For ninety years ten English kings and princes, Threescore great dukes and earls, a thousand lords And valiant knights, two hundred fifty thousand Of English subjects have in civil wars Been sacrific'd to an uncivil thirst Of discord and ambition : this hot vengeance Of the just powers above to utter ruin And desolation had rain'd^ on, but that Mercy did gently sheathe the sword of justice, In lending to this blood-shrunk commonwealth A new soul, new birth, in your sacred person. Daw. Edward the Fourth, after a doubtful fortune, Yielded to nature, leaving to his sons, Edward and Richard, the inheritance Of a most bloody purchase : these young princes, Richard the tyrant, their unnatural uncle, Forc'd to a violent grave : — so just is Heaven, Him hath your majesty by your own arm, Divinely strengthen'd, pull'd from his boar's sty,^ And struck the black usurper to a carcass. Nor doth the house of York decay in honours, Though Lancaster doth repossess his right ; For Edward's daughter is King Henry's queen, — A blessed union, and a lasting blessing For this poor panting island, if some shreds. Some useless remnant of the house of York Grudge not at this content. Oxf. Margaret of Burgundy 2 rainc[\ The 4to has " reign'd ;" which Gifford retained. D. ^ pu/ I'd from his hoMS sty,] This contemjjUious allusion to the armorial bearings of Richard III. is very common in our old writers. Shakespeare has it frequently in his tragedy of this usurper. SCENE I. PERKIN WARBECK. 119 Blows fresh coals of division. Sur. Painted fires, Without or heat to scorch^ or light to cherish. Daw. York's headless trunk, her father; Edward's fate, Her brother, king ; the smothering of her nephews By tyrant Gloster, brother to her nature; Nor Gloster's own confusion, — all decrees Sacred in heaven, — can move this woman-monster, But that she still, from the unbottom'd mine Of devilish policies, doth vent the ore Of troubles and sedition. Oxf. In her age — Great sir, observe the wonder^ — she grows fruitful, Who in her strength of youth was always barren : Nor are her births as other mothers' are, At nine or ten months' end; she has been with child Eight, or seven years at least; whose twins being born, — A prodigy in nature, — even the youngest Is fifteen years of age at his first entrance, As soon as known i' th' world ; tall striplings, strong And able to give battle unto kings, Idols of Yorkish malice. Dmo. And but idols f A steely hammer crushes 'em to pieces. •* or heat to scorcli] The 4to has " to heate or scortch." D. 5 Oxford's speech is principally taken from that of Henry's am- bassador (Sir W. Warham) to the Archduke ; " It is the strangest thing in the world, that the Lady Margaret (excuse us if we name her, whose malice to the king is both causeless and endless) should now, when she is old, at the time when other women give-over child- bearing, bring forth two suck monsters, being not the births of ?tine or ten months, but 0/ many years. And whereas other natural mothers bring forth children weak and not able to help themselves, she bringeth forth tall striplings, able soon after their coming into the world to bid battle to mighty kings." •> Daw. A>id but idols; &c.] The 4to, by mistake, gives this short speech also to Oxford. It is much in Dawbeney's manner. I20 PERKIN WARBECK. act i. K. Hen. Lambert, the eldest, lords, is in our ser- vice, Preferr'd by an officious care of duty From the scullery to a falconer ; strange example ! Which shows the difference between noble natures And the base-born : but for the upstart duke, The new-reviv'd York, Edward's second son, Murder'd long since i' th' Tower, — he lives again, And vows to be your king. Stan. The throne is fiU'd, sir. K. Hen. True, Stanley; and the lawful heir sits on it: A guard of angels and the holy prayers Of loyal subjects are a sure defence Against all force and counsel of intrusion. — But now, my lords, put case, some of our nobles. Our great ones, should give countenance and courage To trim Duke Perkin ; you will all confess Our bounties have unthriftily been scatter'd Amongst untliankful men. Daw. Unthankful beasts. Dogs, villains, traitors ! K. Hen. Dawbeney, let the guilty Keep silence ; I accuse none, though I know Foreign attempts against a state and kingdom Are seldom without some great friends at home. Sta)i. Sir, if no other abler reasons else Of duty or allegiance could divert A headstrong resolution, yet the dangers So lately pass'd by men of blood and fortunes In Lambert Simnel's party"" must command 7 Simnel's parly] Simricl's party (for lie himself was a mere puppet in the hands of the I'"arl of JJncohi) was utterly defeated in the battle of Newark. " Bold Martin Swart," one of the most eele- brated of those soldiers of fortune who in that age traversed Europe with a band of mercenaries, ready to fight for the first person that SCENE I. PERKIN WARBECK. - 121 More than a fear, a terror to conspiracy. The high-born Lincoln, son to De la Pole, The Earl of Kildare, — [the] Lord Geraldine, — Francis Lord Lovell, and the German baron Bold Martin Swart, with Broughton and the rest, — Most spectacles of ruin, some of mercy, — Are precedents sufficient to forewarn The present times, or any that live in them, What folly, nay, what madness, 'twere to lift A finger up in all defence but yours, Which can be but imposturous in a title. K. Hen. Stanley, we know thou lov'st us, and thy heart Is figur'd on thy tongue ; nor think we less Of any's here. — How closely we have hunted This cub, since he unlodg'd, from hole to hole, Your knowledge is our chronicle : first Ireland, The common stage of novelty, presented This gewgaw to oppose us; there the Geraldines And Butlers once again stood in support Of this colossic statue : Charles of France Thence call'd him into his protection, Dissembled him the lawful heir of England ; Yet this was alF but French dissimulation, Aiming at peace Avith us ; which being granted On honourable terms on our part, suddenly This smoke of straw was pack'd from France again, T' infect some grosser air : and now we learn — would pay them, fell in this action, after "performing bravely," as the noble historian says, "with his Germans." Lambert w;is taken jjrisoner. Henry saved his life, — for which Bacon produces many good reasons, — and advanced him first to the dignity of a turnspit in his own kitchen, and subsequently to that of an under-falconer. 8 Yd this was all, a/.] — Sound sprightly music, Whilst majesty encounters majesty. [Hautboys. SCENE I. PERKIN WARBECK. 139 Re-enter Dalyell 7oith Perkin Warbeck, followed at a distance by Frion, Heron, Skelton, Astley, a7id John a- Water. Crawford advances, and sa- lutes Perkin at the door, and afterivards Huntley, who pi'esents him to the King : they e?nbrace ; the Noblemen slightly salute his Followers. War. Most high, most mighty king !'^ that now there stands Before your eyes, in presence of your peers, A subject of the rarest kind of pity That hath in any age touch'd noble hearts, The vulgar story of a prince's ruin Hath made it too apparent : Europe knows. And all the western world, what persecution Hath rag'd in malice against us, sole heir To the great throne of old'^ Plantagenets. How from our nursery we have been hurried Unto the sanctuary, from the sanctuary Forc'd to the prison, from the prison hal'd By cruel hands to the tormentor's fury, Is register'd already in the volume Of all men's tongues ; whose true relation draws Compassion, melted into weeping eyes And bleeding souls : but our misfortunes since 2 War. Most high, inost mighty king! &c.] This speech is skil- fully abridged from the historian. When it could be done with proper effect, the words are taken with no greater change than was necessary for the metrical arrangement ; in other places the poet is content with clothing the sentiments in his own language, but always with the original in view. The speech before us opens thus in Ba- con ; " Higli and mighty king! your grace, and these your nobles here present, may be pleased benignly to bow your ears to hear the tragedy of a young man .... tossed from misery to misery You see here before you the spectacle of a Plantagenet, who hath been carried front tite nursery to the sanctuary, from tlie sanctuary to the direful prison, from tlie prison to the hand of the cruel tormentor," &c. ' old] Gifford printed "th' cdd." D. I40 PERKIN WARBECK. act ii. Have rang'd a larger progress through strange lands, Protected in our innocence by heaven. Edward the Fifth, our brother, in his tragedy Quench'd their hot thirst of blood, whose hire to murder Paid them their wages of despair and horror ; The softness of my childhood smil'd upon The roughness of their task, and robb'd them farther Of hearts to dare, or hands to execute. Great king, they spar'd my life, the butchers spar'd it ; Return'd the tyrant, my unnatural uncle, A truth of my dispatch : I was convey'd With secrecy and speed to Tournay; foster'd By obscure means, taught to unlearn myself: But as I grew in years, I grew in sense Of fear and of disdain ; fear of the tyrant Whose power sway'd the throne then : when disdain Of living so unknown, in such a servile And abject lowness, prompted me to thoughts Of recollecting who I was, I shook off My bondage, and made haste to let my aunt Of Burgundy acknowledge me her kinsman. Heir to the crown of England, snatch'd by Henry From Richard's head ; a thing scarce known i' th' world. K. Ja. My lord, it stands not with your counsel now To fly upon invectives : if you can Make this apparent what you have discours'd In every circumstance, we will not study An answer, but are ready in your cause. War. You are a wise and just king, by the powers Above reserv'd, beyond all other aids, To plant me in mine own inheritance. To marry these two kingdoms in a love Never to be divorc'd while time is time. SCENE I. PERKIN WARBECK. 141 As for the manner, first of my escape, Of my conveyance next, of my life since, The means and persons who were instruments, Great sir, 'tis fit I over-pass in silence ; Reserving the relation to the secrecy Of your own princely ear, since it concerns Some great ones living yet, and others dead, Whose issue might be question'd. For your bounty, Royal magnificence to him that seeks it, We vow hereafter to demean ourself As if we were your own and natural brother. Omitting no occasion in our person T' express a gratitude beyond example. K. Ja. He must be more than subject who can utter The language of a king, and such is thine. Take this for answer : be whate'er thou art. Thou never shalt repent that thou hast put Thy cause and person into my protection. Cousin of York, thus once more we embrace thee ; Welcome to James of Scotland ! for thy safety, Know, such as love thee not shall never wrong thee. Come, we will taste a while our court-delights, Dream hence afflictions past, and then proceed To high attempts of honour. On, lead on ! — Both thou and thine are ours, and we will guard ye. — • Lead on ! \Exeunt all bid the Ladies above. Coimtess of C. 1 have not seen a gentleman Of a more brave aspect or goodlier carriage ; His fortunes move not him. — Madam, you're passion- ate.4 Kath. Beshrew me, but his words have touch'd me home, * Madam, you're ^ossiona.iQ.'] i.e. distressed, deeply affected : the Countess had observed Katherine weeping. 142 PERKIN WARBECK. Ami. As if his cause concern'd me : I should pity him, If he should prove another than he seems. Re-enter Crawford. Craw. Ladies, the king commands your presence instantly For entertainment of the duke. Kath. The duke Must, then, be entertain'd, the king obey'd ; It is our duty. Countess of C. We will all wait on him. \Exeunt the Ladies above. Exit Crawford. Scene II. London. The Tower. A flourish. Enter King Henry, Oxford, Durham, Surrey. K. Lien. Have ye condemn'd my chamberlain ? Dnr. His treasons Condemn'd him, sir ; which were as clear and mani- fest As foul and dangerous : besides, the guilt Of his conspiracy press'd him so nearly, That it drew from him free confession Without an importunity. K. LLcn. O, lord bishop, This argu'd shame and sorrow for his folly, And must not stand in evidence against Our mercy and the softness of our nature : The rigour and extremity of law Is sometimes too-too bitter ; but we carry A chancery of i)ity in our bosom. I hope we may reprieve him from the sentence Of death ; I hope we may. Diir. You may, you may ; SCENE 11. PERKIN WARBECK. 143 And so persuade your subjects that the title Of York is better, nay, more just and lawful. Than yours of Lancaster ! so Stanley holds : Which if it be not treason in the highest, Then we are traitors all, perjur'd and false. Who have took oath to Henry and the justice Of Henry's title ; Oxford, Surrey, Dawbeney, With all your other peers of state and church, Forsworn, and Stanley true alone to heaven And England's lawful heir ! Oxf. By Vere's old honours, I'll cut his throat dares speak it. Siir. 'Tis a quarrel T' engage a soul in. K. Hen. What a coil is here To keep my gratitude sincere and perfect ! Stanley was once my friend,^ and came in time To save my life ; yet, to say truth, my lords, The man stay'd long enough t' endanger it : — But I could see no more into his heart Than what his outward actions did present ; And for 'em have rewarded him^ so fully, As that there wanted nothing in our gift To gratify his merit, as I thought, Unless I should divide my crown with him. And give him half; though now I well perceive 'Twould scarce have serv'd his turn without the whole. 5 Stanley-was once my friend, &c.] Much of this is from the noble historian. The king certainly holds a very different language from that which we had in a former page ; but it is characteristic of his close, cold, and selfish nature. " .\s a little leaven," Bacon says, " of new distaste doth commonly sour the whole lamp of former merits, the king's wit began now to suggest unto his passion that Stanley at Bosworth-field, though he came time enough to save his life, yet he stayed long enough to endanger it." After all, the writer hints, as broadly as he dared, that Stanley's main guilt lay in his vast accumulations, which Henry viewed with too greedy an eye. ® html The 4to has " 'em." D. 144 PERKIN WARBECK. act ii. But I am charitable, lords ; let justice Proceed in execution, whiles I mourn The loss of one whom I esteem'd a friend. Du)'. Sir, he is coming this way. K. Hen. If he speak to me, I could deny him nothing ; to prevent it, I must withdraw. Pray, lords, commend my favours To his last peace, which I with him" will pray for : That done, it doth concern us to consult Of other following troubles. \Exit. Oxf. I am glad He's gone : upon my life, he would have pardon'd The traitor, had he seen him. Snr. 'Tis a king Compos'd of gentleness. Dur. Rare and unheard of : But every man is nearest to himself; And that the king observes ; 'tis fit he should. Enter Stanley, Executioner, Confessor, Urswick, and Dawbeney. Stan. May I not speak with Clifford ere I shake This piece of frailty off? Daw. You shall ; he's sent for. Stan. I must not see the king ? Dur. From him. Sir William, These lords and I am sent ; he bade us say That he commends his mercy to your thoughts ; Wishing the laws of England could remit The forfeit of your life as willingly As he would in the sweetness of his nature Forget your trespass : but howe'er your body Fall into dust, he vows, the king himself 7 1 7vith hiin\ Gifford printed "with him, I." D. SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 145 Doth VOW, to keep a requiem for your soul, As for a friend close treasur'd in his bosom. Oxf. Without remembrance of your errors past, I come to take my leave, and wish you heaven. Sur. And I ; good angels guard ye ! Stan. O, the king. Next to my soul, shall be the nearest subject Of my last prayers. My grave Lord of Durham, My Lords of Oxford, Surrey, Dawbeney, all, Accept from a poor dying man a farewell. I was as you are once, — great, and stood hopeful Of many flourishing years ; but fate and time Have wheel'd about, to turn me into nothing. Daw. Sir Robert Clifford comes, — the man. Sir William, You so desire to speak with. Diir. Mark their meeting. Enter Clifford. Clif. Sir William Stanley, I am glad your con- science Before your end hath emptied every burthen Which charg'd it, as that you can clearly witness How far I have proceeded in a duty That both concern'd my truth and the state's safety. Stan. Mercy, how dear is life to such as hug it ! Come hither ; by this token think on me ! \Makes a cross on Clifford'' s face with his finger. Clif. This token ! What ! I am^ abus'd ? Stan. You are not. I wet upon your cheeks a holy sign, — The cross, the Christian's badge, the traitor's infamy : Wear, Clifford, to thy grave this painted emblem ; Water shall never wash it off; all eyes 8 I am^ Giffbrd unnecessarily printed "am I." D. VOL. n. L 146 PERKIN WARBECK. act it. That gaze upon thy face shall read there written A state- informer's character; more ugly Stamp'd on a noble name than on a base. The heavens forgive thee ! — Pray, my lords, no change Of words ; this man and I have us'd too many. Clif. Shall I be disgrac'd Without reply ? Diir. Give losers leave to talk ; His loss is irrecoverable. Stan. Once more, To all a long farewell ! The best of greatness Preserve the king ! My next suit is, my lords. To be remember'd to my noble brother, Derby, my much-griev'd brother •? O, persuade him That I shall stand no blemish to his house In chronicles writ in another age. My heart doth bleed for him and for his sighs : Tell him, he must not think the style of Derby, Nor being husband to King Henry's mother, The league with peers, the smiles of fortune, can Secure his peace above the state of man. I take my leave, to travel to my dust : Subjects deserve their deaths whose kings are just. — Come, confessor. — On with thy axe, friend, on ! \He is led off to execution. CUf. Was I call'd hither by a traitor's breath To be upbraided ? Lords, the king shall know it. Re-enter King Henry 7uii/i a 7uhite staff. K. Hen. The king doth know it, sir; the king hath heard 9 Derby, my much-griev'd brother.-] See note p. 122. Lord Stan- ley had been raised to the dignity of an earl in October 1485, a few weeks after the battle of Bosworth. bCENK II. PERKIN WARBECK. 147 What he or you could say. We have given credit To every point of CHfford's information, The only evidence 'gainst Stanley's head : He dies for't ; are you pleas'd ? Clif. I pleas'd, my lord ! K. Hen. No echos : for your service, we dismiss Your more attendance on the court ; take ease, And live at home ; but, as you love your life, Stir not from London without leave from us. We'll think on your reward : away ! Clif. I go, sir. [Exit. K. Hen. Die all our griefs with Stanley ! Take this staff Of office, Dawbeney;i° henceforth be our chamberlain. Daw. I am your humblest servant. K. Hen. We are foUow'd By enemies at home, that will not cease To seek their own confusion : 'tis most true The Cornish under Audley are march'd on As far as Winchester ; — but let them come, Our forces are in readiness ; we'll catch 'em In their own toils. Daw. Your army, being muster'd, Consists in all, of horse and foot, at least In number six-and-twenty thousand ; men Daring and able, resolute to fight, And loyal in their truths. K. Hen. We know it, Dawbeney : For them we order thus ; Oxford in chief, Assisted by bold Essex and the Earl Of Suffolk, shall lead on the first battalia ; 19 Dawbeney;] This person (Giles Lord Dawbeney) was "a man," Bacon says, "of great sufficiency and valour, the more because he was gentle and moderate." Yet he always appears on the side of violent counsels, and more forward with his flattery than any of the courtiers in the King's confidence. 148 PERKIN WARBECK. act ii. Be that your charge. Oxf. I humbly thank your majesty. K. Hen. The next division we assign to Dawbeney : These must be men of action, for on those The fortune of our fortunes must rely. The last and main ourself commands in person ; As ready to restore the fight at all times As to consummate an assured victory. Daw. The king is still oraculous. K. Hen. But, Surrey, We have employment of more toil for thee : For our intelligence comes swiftly to us, That James of Scotland late hath entertain'd Perkin the counterfeit with more than common Grace and respect, nay, courts him with rare favours. The Scot is young and forward ; we must look for A sudden storm to England from the north ; Which to withstand, Durham shall post to Norham, To fortify the castle and secure The frontiers against an invasion there. Surrey shall follow soon, with such an army As may relieve the bishop, and encounter On all occasions the death-daring Scots. You know your charges all ; 'tis now a time To execute, not talk : Heaven is our guard still. War must breed peace ; such is the fate of kings. \Exeunt. Scene III. Edinburgh. An apartment iti the palace. Enter Crawford and Dalyell. Craw. 'Tis more than strange ; my reason cannot answer Such argument of fine imposture, couch'd SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 149 In witchcraft of persuasion, that it fashions Impossibihties, as if appearance Could cozen truth itself: this dukeUng mushroom Hath doubtless charm'd the king. Dal. He courts the ladies, As if his strength of language chain'd attention By power of prerogative. Craw. It madded My very soul to hear our master's motion : What surety both of amity and honour Must of necessity ensue upon A match betwixt some noble of our nation And this brave prince, forsooth ! Dal. 'Twill prove too fatal ; Wise Huntley fears the threatening. Bless the lady From such a ruin ! Craw. How the counsel privy Of this young Phaethon do screw their faces Into a gravity their trades, good people, Were never guilty of ! the meanest of 'em Dreams of at least an office in the state. Dal. Sure, not the hangman's; 'tis bespoke already For service to their rogueships — Silence ! Enter King James and Huntley. K.Ja. Do not Argue against our will ; we have descended Somewhat — as we may term it — too familiarly From justice of our birthright, to examine The force of your allegiance, — sir, we have, — But find it short of duty. Hunt. Break my heart, Do, do, king ! Have my services, my loyalty, — Heaven knows untainted ever, — drawn upon me Contempt now in mine age, when I but wanted 150 PERKIN WARRECK. ACT 11. A minute of a peace not to be troubled," My last, my long one ? Let me be a dotard, A bedlam, a poor sot, or what you please To have me, so you will not stain your blood, Your own blood, royal sir, though mix'd with mine. By marriage of this girl^^ ^q q^ straggler : Take, take my head, sir ; whilst my tongue can wag, It cannot name him other. K.Ja. Kings are counterfeits In your repute, grave oracle, not presently Set on their thrones with sceptres in their fists. But use your own detraction ; 'tis our pleasure To give our cousin York for wife our kinswoman, The Lady Katherine : instinct of sovereignty Designs the honour, though her peevish father Usurps our resolution. Hunt. O, 'tis well, Exceeding well ! I never was ambitious Of xising congees to my daughter-queen — A queen ! perhaps a quean l^^ — Forgive me, Dalyell, 11 when I but wanted A minute of a peace not to be troubled,'] i.e. when I am on tlie verge of the grave, and should spend the short remainder of my life in trancjuillity. 1- By marriage of this girl] See vol. i. p. 18. — The circumstance is thus briefly noticed by Lord Bacon ; "To put it out of doubt tluit he took him [Perkin] to be a great prince, and not a representation only, he [King James] gave consent that this duke should take to wife the Lady Katherine Gordon, daughter to the Earl of Huntley, being a near kinswoman to the king himself, and a young virgin of excellent beauty and virtue." ^3 A (juccu ! perhaps a quean !J I cannot reconcile myself to this reading, though 1 have adopted it. The noble Huntley would scarcely use such language of his daughter, however lightly he might be dis- posed to treat the young pretender to royalty. The passage stands thus in the old copy ; " I never was ambitious Of using congeys to my Dauglitcr Queene: A Queene, perhaps a Queene f If the last line be read "A queen, perhaps ! a queen I" It may seem to express his affected surprise at her advanccmeiU. I'ut let the reader decide. [The reading in the te.xt is, I think, right. D. | SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 151 Thou honourable gentleman ; — none here Dare speak one word of comfort ? Dal. Cruel misery ! Craw. The lady, gracious prince, may be hath settled Affection on some former choice. Dal. Enforcement Would prove but tyranny. Hunt. I thank ye heartily. Let any yeoman of our nation challenge An interest in the girl, then the king May add a jointure of ascent in titles, Worthy a free consent ; now he pulls down What old desert hath builded. K. /a. Cease persuasions. I violate no pawns of faiths, intrude not On private loves ; that I have play'd the orator For kingly York to virtuous Kate, her grant Can justify, referring her contents To our provision. The Welsh Harry henceforth Shall therefore know, and tremble to acknowledge, That not the painted idol of his policy Shall fright the lawful owner from a kingdom. We are resolv'd. Hunt. Some of thy subjects' hearts. King James, will bleed for this. K. /a. Then shall their bloods Be nobly spent. No more disputes ; he is not Our friend who contradicts us. Hunt. Farewell, daughter! My care by one is lessen'd, thank the king for't : I and my griefs will dance now. Enter ^N Am^-ECK., leading, and coinplimentingwith.^ Lady Katherine; Countess of Cr.'vwford, Jane Dou- 152 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT ii. GLAS, Frion, John a-Water, Astley, Heron, and Skelton. Look, lords, look ; Here's hand in hand already ! K. Ja. Peace, old frenzy ! — How like a king he looks ! Lords, but observe The confidence of his aspect ; dross cannot Cleave to so pure a metal — royal youth ! Plantagenet undoubted ! Hiint. \asidc\ Ho, brave ! — Youth,^^ But no Plantagenet, by'r lady, yet, By red rose or by white. War. An union this way Settles possession in a monarchy Establish'd rightly, as is my inheritance : Acknowledge me but sovereign of this kingdom, Your heart, fair princess, and the hand of providence Shall crown you queen of me and my best fortunes. Kath. Where my obedience is, my lord, a duty Love owes true service. War. Shall I ?— K. Ja. Cousin, yes. Enjoy her ; from my hand accept your bride ; \He joins their hands. And may they live at enmity with comfort Who grieve at such an equal pledge of troths ! — You are the prince's wife now. Kath. By your gift, sir. War. Thus I take seizure of mine own. Kath. I miss yet A father's blessing. Let me find it ; — humbly Upon my knees I seek it. 1^ Ho, brave! — Youth,] The old copy has "lady." The Earl evidently meant to repeat the King's last words : the mistake pro- bably arose from the printer's eye having been caught by the word immediately below it. SCENE in. PERKIN WARBECK. 15: Hunt. I am Huntley, Old Alexander Gordon,^'^ a plain subject, Nor more nor less ; and, lady, if you wish for A blessing, you must bend your knees to heaven ; For heaven did give me you. Alas, alas, What would you have me say? May all the happiness My prayers ever su'd to fall upon you Preserve you in your virtues ! — Prithee, Dalyell, Come with me ; for I feel thy griefs as full As mine ; let's steal away, and cry together. Dal. My hopes are in their ruins. \Exetint Hunt, and Dal. K. Ja. Good, kind Huntley Is overjoy'd : a fit solemnity Shall perfect these delights. — Crawford, attend Our order for the preparation. [Exeunt all but Prion, Her. Skelt. J. a- Wat. a7id Ast. Fri. Now, worthy gentlemen, have I not foUow'd My undertakings with success? Here's entrance Into a certainty above a hope. Her. Hopes are but hopes ; I was ever confident, when I traded but in remnants, that my stars had re- served me to the title of a viscount at least : honour is honour, though cut out of any stuffs. ^•^ Skelt. My brother Heron hath right wisely delivered ^^ Hunt. / am Huntley, O/rf Ale.xander Gordon,'] This appears to be a mistake. The father of Katharine, as is said above, was George Gordon. His father, indeed, was named Alexander, and so was his son and successor ; but ihe latter did not obtain the title till many years after this period. [Here in the 4to "Gordon" is "Guerdon." D.] 18 honour is honour, though cut out of any stuffs.] Ford has made the speakers express themselves characteristically. Heron, or Heme, as Lord Bacon calls him, was a mercer; Sketon, or rather Skelton, was a tailor ; and Astley a scrivener : they were all men of broken fortunes ; a circumstance to which the poet frequently alludes. [The 4to has " Sketon" passim ; and so Gifford : but see Lord Bacon and Hall. D.I 154 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT II. his opinion ; for he that threads his needle with the sharp eyes of industry shall in time go through-stitch^'' with the new suit of preferment. Ast. Spoken to the purpose, my fine-witted brother Skelton ; for as no indenture but has its counterpane, no noverint but his condition or defeasance; so no right but may have claim, no claim but may have possession, any act of parliament to the contrary notwithstanding. Fri. You are all read in mysteries of state. And quick of apprehension, deep in judgment. Active in resolution ; and 'tis pity Such counsel should lie buried in obscurity. But why, in such a time and cause of triumph, Stands the judicious Mayor of Cork so silent? Believe it, sir, as English Richard prospers. You must not miss employment of high nature. J. a- Wat. If men may be credited in their mortality, which I dare not peremptorily aver but they may or not be, presumptions by this marriage are then, in sooth, of fruitful expectation. Or else I must not justify other men's belief, more than other should rely on mine. Fri. Pith of experience! those that have borne office Weigh every word before it can drop from them. But, noble counsellors, since now the present Requires in point of honour, — pray, mistake not, — Some service to our lord, 'tis fit the Scots Should not engross all glory to themselves At this so grand and eminent solemnity. Skclt. The Scots ! the motion is defied : I had ra- ther, for my part, without trial of my country, suffer persecution under the pressing-iron of reproach; or 17 througli-stilch'] Gifford iirinted " thoroiigh-.f/?/i7^" — the more usual form of the word. 13. SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 155 let my skin be punched^^ full of eyelet-holes with the bodkin of derision. Ast. I will sooner lose both my ears on the pillory of forgery. ffe}\ Let me first live a bankrupt, and die in the lousy Hole^^ of hunger, without compounding for six- pence in the pound. J. a-lVat If men fail not in their expectations, there may be spirits also that digest^" no rude affronts, Master Secretary Frion, or I am cozened ; which is possible, I grant. Fri. Resolv'd like men of knowledge: at this feast, then, In honour of the bride, the Scots, I know. Will in some show, some masque, or some device, Prefer their duties : now it were uncomely That we be found less forward for our prince Than they are for their lady ; and by how much We outshine them in persons of account. By so much more will our endeavours meet with A livelier applause. Great emperors Have for their recreations undertook Such kind of pastimes : as for the conceit. Refer it to my study ; the performance You all shall share a thanks in : 'twill be grateful. Ifer. The motion is allowed : I have stole to a dancing-school when I was a prentice. Ast. There have been Irish hubbubs,"^ when I have made one too, 18 punched] The 410 has " pincht." D. 13 Hole] The name for one of the worst apartments in the Counter prison. D. 20 digest] Here the 4to has "disgest." D. 21 Irish hubbubs,] Tumultuous meiTy-mectings at wakes and fairs. The speakers, it should be observed, are all from Ireland. Astley, as has been said, was a pettifogger ; his presence at these hubbubs, therefore, is natural enough. 156 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT ill. Skelt. For fashioning of shapes and cutting a cross- caper, turn me off to my trade again. J. a- Wat. Surely there is, if I be not deceived, a kind of gravity in merriment ; as there is, or perhaps ought to be, respect of persons in the quaHty of carri- age, which is as it is construed, either so or so. Fri. Still you come home to me; upon occasion I find you relish courtship with discretion ; And such are fit for statesmen of your merits. Pray ye wait the prince, and in his ear acquaint him With this design ; I'll follow and direct ye. \_Exeu!it all but Frion. O, the toil Of humouring this abject scum of mankind, Muddy-brain'd peasants ! princes feel a misery Beyond impartial sufferance, whose extremes Must yield to such abettors : — yet our tide^^ Runs smoothly, without adverse winds : run on ! Flow to a full sea ! time alone debates Quarrels forewritten in the book of fates. \Exit. ACT III. Scene I. Westminster. The palace. Enter VJ\r\% Henry, joith hh goygd on, his sword, pliane of feathers, and leading-staff {truncheon), followed by Uksvvick. K. Hen. How runs the time of day? Urs. Past ten, my lord. K. Hen. A bloody hour will it prove to some. Whose disobedience, like the sgns o' th' earth, " yet our tide, &c.] i.e. hitherto, thus far, SiC. as in p. 162. SCKNEI. PERKIN WARBECK. 157 Throw[s] a defiance 'gainst the face of heaven. Oxford, with Essex and stout De la Pole, Have quieted the Londoners, I hope, And set them safe from fear. Urs. They are all silent. K. Hen. From their own battlements they may be- hold Saint George's-fields o'erspread with armed men ; Amongst whom our own royal standard threatens Confusion to opposers : we must learn To practise war again in time of peace, Or lay our crown before our subjects' feet; Ha, Urswick, must we not ? Urs. The powers who seated King Henry on his lawful throne will ever Rise up in his defence. K. Hen. Rage shall not fright The bosom of our confidence : in Kent Our Cornish rebels, cozen'd of their hopes, Met brave resistance by that country's earl, George Abergeny, Cobham, Poynings, Guilford, And other loyal hearts ; now, if Blackheath Must be reserv'd the fatal tomb to swallow Such stifif-neck'd abjects as with weary marches Have travell'd from their homes, their wives, and children, To pay, instead of subsidies, their lives. We may continue sovereign. Yet, Urswick, We'll not abate one penny what in parliament Hath freely been contributed ; we must not ; Money gives soul to action. Our competitor. The Flemish counterfeit, with James of Scotland, Will prove what courage need and want can nourish, Without the food of fit supplies : — but, Urswick, I have a charm in secret that shall loose 158 PERKIN WARBECK. act in. The witchcraft wherewitli young King James is bound, And free it at my pleasure without bloodshed. Urs. Your majesty's a wise king, sent from heaven, Protector of the just. K. Hen. Let dinner cheerfully Be serv'd in ; this day of the week is ours, Our day of providence ; for Saturday Yet never fail'd^ in all my undertakings To yield me rest at night. \A flotirish?[ — What means this warning ? Good fate, speak peace to Henry ! Enter Dawbeney, Oxford, and Attendants. Daiv. Live the king, Triumphant in the ruin of his enemies ! Oxf. The head of strong rebellion is cut off, The body hew'd in pieces, K. Hen. Dawbeney, Oxford, Minions to noblest fortunes, how yet stands The comfort of your wishes ? Daw. Briefly thus : The Cornish under Audley, disappomted Of flatter'd expectation, from the Kentish — Your majesty's right-trusty liegemen — flew, Feather'd by rage and hearten'd by presumption. To take the field even at your palace-gates, And face you in your chamber-royal : arrogance Improv'd their ignorance ; for they, supposing, Misled by rumour, that the day of battle Should fall on Monday, rather brav'd your forces 1 for Saturday Yd never fail d, &c.] The King's predilection for Saturday is noticed by Lord Racon. Henry had taken great pains to induce the insurgents to believe that he intended to jnit-off tlie action till the succeeding Monday : they fell into the snare, and were accord- ingly unprepared for the attack, which took place on Saturday the 22d of June. SCENE I. PERKIN WARBECK. 159 Than doubted any onset ; yet this morning, When in the dawning I, by your direction, Strove to get Deptford-Strand-bridge,'-^ there I found Such a resistance as might show what strength Could make : here arrows hail'd in showers upon us A full yard long at least ; but we prevail'd. My Lord of Oxford, Avith his fellow peers Environing the hill, fell fiercely on them On the one side, I on the other, till, great sir, — Pardon the oversight,— eager of doing Some memorable act, I was engag'd Almost a prisoner, but was freed as soon As sensible of danger : now the fight Began in heat, which quench'd in the blood of Two thousand rebels, and as many more Reserv'd to try your mercy, have return'd A victory with safety. K. Hen. Have we lost An equal number with them ? Oxf. In the total Scarcely four hundred. Audley, Flammock, Joseph, The ringleaders^ of this commotion, Railed in ropes,"* fit ornaments for traitors, "i Deptford- Strand-bridge,'] The 4to has " Dertford Strand bridge." D. 3 Audley, Flainmock, Joseph, The ringleaders, &c.] Lord Audley had been for some time in communication with the leaders of the Cornish men, but did not join them till they reached Wells in Somersetshire. He was, the historian says, " of an ancient family, but unquiet and popular, and aspiring to ruin." He was immediately, and "with great gladness and cries of joy, accepted as their general ; they being now proud that they were led by a nobleman." Thomas Flammock, a common name in Corn- wall, was a lawyer, who by various artifices had obtained great sway among them ; and Michael Joseph, a blacksmith or farrier, of Bod- min, " a notable talking fellow, and no less desirous to be talked of." It should be added, that Ford is indebted to Lord Bacon for most of the incidents in Dawbeney's narrative. 4 Railed i?i ropes,'] The 4to is imperfect [where? D.], and reads " Ruled in ropes." As the R is very indistinct, I should have been inclined, perhaps, to make "Haled" out of it, had I not found the i6o PERKIN WARBECK. act iii. Wait your determinations. K. Hen. We must pay Our thanks where they are only due : O, lords, Here is no victory, nor shall our people Conceive that we can triumph in their falls. Alas, poor souls ! let such as are escap'd Steal to the country back without pursuit : There's not a drop of blood spilt but hath drawn As much of mine ; their swords could have wrought wonders On their king's part, who faintly were unsheath'd Against their prince, but wounded their own breasts. Lords, we are debtors to your care ; our payment Shall be both sure and fitting your deserts. Daw. Sir, will you please to see those rebels, heads Of this wild monster-multitude ? K. Hen. Dear friend, My faithful Dawbeney, no ; on them our justice Must frown in terror ; I will not vouchsafe An eye of pity to them. Let false Audley Be drawn upon an hurdle from the Newgate To Tower-hill in his own coat of arms Painted on paper, with the arms revers'd, Defac'd and torn ; there let him lose his head. The lawyer and the blacksmith shall be hang'd, Quarter'd ; their quarters into Cornwall sent Examples to the rest, whom we are pleas'd To pardon and dismiss from further quest. — My Lord of Oxford, see it done. Oxf. I shall, sir. K. Hen. Urswick ! expression in Bacon; "they were brought to London all railed in ropes, like a team of horses in a cart." — Flammock and Joseph were hanged at Tyburn. "The Lord Audley was led from Newgate to Tower-hill, in a paper coat painted -with his own artns, the arms reversed, the coat torn, and at Tower-hill beheaded." SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. i6i Urs. My lord ? K. Hen. To Dinham, our high-treasurer, Say, we command commissions be new granted For the collection of our subsidies Through all the west, and that [right] speedily. — Lords, we acknowledge our engagements due For your most constant services. Daiv. Your soldiers Have manfully and faithfully acquitted Their several duties. K. Hen. For it we will throw A largess free amongst them, which shall hearten And cherish-up their loyalties. More yet Remains of like employment ; not a man Can be dismiss'd, till enemies abroad, More dangerous than these at home, have felt The puissance of our arms. O, happy kings Whose thrones are raised in their subjects' hearts I \Exeu?it. Scene II. Edinburgh. The palace. Etiter HUNTI.F.Y and Dalyeli.. Hunt. Now, sir, a modest word with you, sad gen- tleman : Is not this fine, I trow, to see the gambols. To hear the jigs, observe the frisks, be enchanted With the rare discord of bells, pipes, and tabors, Hotch-potch of Scotch and Irish twingle-twangles. Like to so many quiristers of Bedlam Trolling a catch ! The feasts, the manly stomachs, The healths in usquebaugh and bonny-clabber,'' 5 The healths in bonny-clabber,] A common name, in our old writers, for curds-and-whey, or sour buttermilk. It appears to have been a favourite drink both with the Scotch and Irish. See Jonson, vol. V. p. 330. vol.. II. M l62 PERKIN WARBECK. act iii. The ale in dishes never fetch'd from China, The hundred-thousand knacks not to be spoken of, — And all this for King Oberon and Queen Mab, — Should put a soul into ye. Look ye, good man. How youthful I am grown : but, by your leave, This new queen-bride must henceforth be no more My daughter ; no, by'r lady, 'tis unfit : And yet you see how I do bear this change, Methinks courageously : then shake-off care In such a time of jollity. Dal. Alas, sir, How can you cast a mist upon your griefs ? Which, howsoe'er you shadow, but present To any'' judging eye the perfect substance. Of which mine are but counterfeits. Htint. Foh, Dalyell ! Thou interrupt'st the part I bear in music To this rare bridal-feast ; let us be merry. Whilst flattering calms secure us against storms : Tempests, when they begin to roar, put out The light of peace, and cloud the sun's bright eye In darkness of despair ; yet we are safe. Dal. I wish you could as easily forget The justice of your sorrows as my hopes Can yield to destiny. Hunt. Pish ! then I see Thou dost not know the flexible condition Of my apt'' nature : I can laugh, laugh heartily. When the gout cramps my joints ; let but the stone Stop in my bladder, I am straight a-singing ; The quartan-fever, shrinking every limb, " a)iv] Gifford bracketed this word, as if omitted in the old edi- tion. But both the 4to in the King's Library, British Museum, and a copy in my possession liave the word. D. 1 apt] So the two 4tos just mentioned. — Gifford printed "[tough]." D. scrcNE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 163 Sets me a-capering straight ; do but^ betray me, And bind me a friend ever : what ! I trust The losing of a daughter, though I doted On every hair that grew to trim her head, Admits not any pain Uke one of these. Come, thou'rt deceiv'd in me : give me a blow, A sound blow on the face, I'll thank thee for't ; I love my wrongs : still thou'rt deceiv'd in me. Dal. Deceiv'd ! O, noble Huntley, my few years Have learnt experience of too ripe an age To forfeit fit credulity : forgive My rudeness, I am bold. Hunt. Forgive me first A madness of ambition ; by example Teach me humility, for patience scorns Lectures, which schoolmen use to read to boys Uncapable of injuries : though old, I could grow tough in fury, and disclaim Allegiance to my king ; could fall at odds With all my fellow-peers that durst not stand Defendants 'gainst the rape done on mine honour : But kings are earthly gods, there is no meddling With their anointed bodies ; for their actions They only are accountable to heaven. Yet in the puzzle of my troubled brain One antidote's reserv'd against the poison Of my distractions \ 'tis in thee t' apply it. Dal. Name it ; O, name it quickly, sir ! Hunt. A pardon For my most foolish slighting thy deserts ; I have cuU'd out this time to beg it : prithee, 8 bitt\ Bracketed by Gifford, though found in the two 4tos just men- tioned. — It is possible that Gifford may have used a 4to of the same edition with the variations here noticed : see note, vol. i. p. 34. D. 164 PERKIN VVARBECK. act 11 1. Be gentle ; had I been so, thou hadst own'd A happy bride, but now a castaway, And never child of mine more. Dal. Say not so, sir ; It is not fault in her. Hunt. The world would prate How she was handsome ; young I know she was, Tender, and sweet in her obedience ; But lost now : what a bankrupt am I made Of a full stock of blessings ! Must I hope A mercy from thy heart ? Dal. A love, a service, A friendship to posterity. Hunt. Good angels Reward thy charity ! I have no more But prayers left me now. Dal. I'll lend you mirth, sir, If you will be in consort. Hunt. Thank ye truly : I must ; yes, yes, I must ; — here's yet some ease, A partner in affliction : look not angry. Dal. Good, noble sir ! {Flourish. Hunt. O, hark ! we may be quiet, The King and all the others come ; a meeting Of gaudy sights : this day 's the last of revels ; To-morrow sounds of war ; then new exchange ; Fiddles must turn to swords. — Unhappy marriage ! A flourish. Enter King James, Warbeck leading Katherine, Crawford and his Countess ; Jane Douglas, and other Ladies. Huntley and Dal- \ELh fall among them. K.Ja. Cousin of York, you and your princely bride Have liberally enjoy'd such soft delights SCKNEII. PERKIN WARBECK. 165 As a new-married couple could forethink ; Nor has our bounty shorten'd expectation : But after all those pleasures of repose, Of amorous safety, we must rouse the ease Of dalliance with achievements of more glory Than sloth and sleep can furnish : yet, for farewell, Gladly we entertain a truce with time, To grace the joint endeavours of our servants. War. My royal cousin, in your princely favour Th' extent of bounty hath been so unlimited. As only an acknowledgment in words Would breed suspicion in our state and quality. When we shall, in the fulness of our fate, — Whose minister, Necessity, will perfect,^ — Sit on our own throne ; then our arms, laid open To gratitude, in sacred memory Of these large benefits, shall twine them close, Even to our thoughts and heart, without distinction. Then James and Richard, being in effect One person, shall unite and rule one people, Divisible in titles only. J^. Ja. Seat ye. — Are the presenters ready ? Craw. All are entering. Hunt. Dainty sport toward, Dalyell ! sit; come, sit. Sit and be quiet ; here are kingly bug's-words I^'' 8 The sentence seems incomplete, for want of a relative ; the meaning, however, is clear enough : in plain words, Necessity, the agent of Destiny, will bring her design to perfection; i.e. give me the kingdom. 10 bugs-words!'] [Altered to "hMg-words" byGifford, who, in his Introd., sneers at Weber for retaining the other form: but see my note on Philaster, Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, vol. i. p. 297. D.] Generally speaking, terrific, alarming words; from the Celtic tivg, a fiend, a frightful hobgoblin : here, however, they sarcastically allude to the pompous high-sounding language of the imaginary mon- arch. A similar e.xpression occurs in the Tamer tamed [by Fletcher] ; " Indeed, these are bug-words !" l66 PERKIN WARBECK. act III. E7itcr at one door Four Scotch Antics, accordingly ha- bited -^^ at another, Warbeck's followers, disguised as Four Wild Irish in trowses^'^ long-haired, and ac- cordingly habited. Music. A dance by the Masquers. K. Ja. To all a general thanks ! War. In the next room Take your own shapes^^ again ; you shall receive Particular acknowledgment. \Exeu7it the Masquers. K. Ja. Enough Of merriments. — Crawford, how fafs our army Upon the march ? Craw. At Hedon-hall, great king ; Twelve thousand, well prepar'd. K. Ja. Crawford, to-night Post thither. We in person, with the prince, By four o'clock to-morrow after dinner Will be wi' ye ; speed away ! Craw. I fly, my lord. \Exit. K. Ja. Our business grows to head now : where's your secretary, That he attends ye not to serve ? War. With Marchmont, Your herald. K. Ja. Good : the proclamation's ready ; By that it will appear how th' English stand Affected to your title. — Huntley, comfort Your daughter in her husband's absence ; fight With prayers at home for us, who for your honours Must toil in fight abroad. Himt. Prayers are the weapons 11 Four Scotch Antics, accordingly habited f\ i.e. characteristi- cally. The trowscs, or trasses, of the "wild Irisli," mentioned in the next line, were drawers closely fitted to the shape, and which, to- gether with the long shaggy hair of these people, are often made the subject of mirth by our old dramatists. 12 Take voi/r own .shapes] i. e. resume your ordinary dress. scENt. n. PERKIN WARBECK. 167 Which men so near their graves as I do use ; I've little else to do, K. Ja. To rest, young beauties ! — We must be early stirring ; quickly part : A kingdom's rescue craves both speed and art. — Cousins,^^ good-night. \A flourish. War. Rest to our cousin-king. Kath. Your blessing, sir. Hujit. Fair blessings on your highness ! sure, you need 'em. \Exeunt all hut War. Kath. and Jane. War. Jane, set the lights down, and from us return To those in the next room this little purse ; Say we'll deserve their loves. Jane. It shall be done, sir. \Ii,xit. War. Now, dearest, ere sweet sleep shall seal those eyes, Love's precious tapers, give me leave to use A parting ceremony ; for to-morrow It would be sacrilege t' intrude upon The temple of thy peace : swift as the morning Must I break from the down of thy embraces. To put on steel, and trace the paths which lead Through various hazards to a careful throne. Kath. My lord, I'd fain go wi' ye ; there's small fortune In staying here behind. War. The churlish brow Of war, fair dearest, is a sight of horror For ladies' entertainment : if thou hear'st A truth of my sad ending by the hand Of some unnatural subject, thou withal Shalt hear how I died worthy of my right, 13 Cousins,'\ Is right, if the king addresses Kntherine as well as Warlieck: but qy. "Cousin"? D. l68 PERKIN WARBECK. act ni. By falling like a king ; and in the close, Which my last breath shall sound, thy name, thou fairest, Shall sing a requiem to my soul, unwilling Only of greater glory, 'cause divided From such a heaven on earth as life with thee. But these are chimes for funerals : my business Attends on fortune of a sprightlier triumph ; For love and majesty are reconcil'd, And vow to crown thee empress of the west. Kath. You have a noble language, sir; your right In me is without question, and however Events of time may shorten my deserts In others' pity, yet it shall not stagger Or constancy or duty in a wife. You must be king of me ; and my poor heart Is all I can call mine. Wa7-. But we will live. Live, beauteous virtue, by the lively test Of our own blood, to let the counterfeit Be known the world's contempt. Kath. Pray, do not use That word ; it carries fate in't. The first suit I ever made, I trust your love will grant. War. Without denial, dearest. Kath. That hereafter, If you return with safety, no adventure May sever us in tasting any fortune : I ne'er can stay behind again. War. You're lady Of your desires, and shall command your will ; Yet 'tis too hard a promise. Kath. What our destinies Have rul'd-out in their books we must not search, But kneel to. SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 169 War. Then to fear when hope is fruitless, Were to be desperately miserable ; Which poverty our greatness dares not dream of, And much more scorns to stoop to : some few minutes Remain yet ; let's be thrifty in our hopes. [Exeunt. Scene III. The palace at Westminster. Enter King Henry, Hialas, and Urswick. K. Hen. Your name is Pedro Hialas," a Spaniard? Hial. Sir, a CastiUan born. K. Hen. King Ferdinand, With wise Queen Isabel his royal consort, Write ye a man of worthy trust and candour. Princes are dear to heaven who meet with subjects Sincere in their employments ; such I find Your commendation, sir. Let me deliver How joyful I repute the amity With your most fortunate master, who almost Comes near a miracle in his success Against the Moors, who had devour'd his country, Entire now to his sceptre. We, for our part. Will imitate his providence, in hope Of partage in the use on't : we repute The privacy of his advisement to us By you, intended an ambassador To Scotland, for a peace between our kingdoms, A policy of love, which well becomes 13 Your tiame is Pedro Hialas, &c.] "Amongst these troubles, " Lord Bacon says, "came into England from Spain V^i^x Hialas, some call him Elias (surely he was the forerunner of the good hap that we enjoy at this day ; for his ambassage set the truce between England and Scotland ; the truce drew on the peace ; the peace the marriage ; and the marriage the union of the kingdoms) ; a man of great wisdom, and, as those times were, not unlearned. " 170 PERKIN WARBECK. act hi. His wisdom and our care. Hial. Your majesty Doth understand him rightly. K. Hen. Else Your knowledge can instruct me ; wherein, sir, To fall on ceremony would seem useless, Which shall not need ; for I will be as studious Of your concealment in our conference As any council shall advise. Hial. Then, sir, My chief request is, that on notice given At my dispatch in Scotland, you will send Some learned man of power and experience To join entreaty with me. K. Hen. I shall do it, Being that way well provided by a servant Which may attend ye ever. Hial. If King James, By any indirection, should perceive My coming near your court, I doubt the issue Of my employment. K. Hen. Be not your own herald : I learn sometimes without a teacher. Hial. Good days Guard all your princely thoughts ! K. Hen. Urswick, no further Than the next open gallery attend him. — A hearty love go with you ! Hial. Your vow'd beadsman.^' \Exeunt Urs. and Hial. K. Hen. King Ferdinand is not so much a fox, But that a cunning huntsman may in time !■* Your vow'd beadsman. | One bound to pray for you ; from bcdc, the old English word for prayer. At this time, however, the exi^rcssion was sufficiently familiar, and meant little more than the conmion language of civility —your vowed or devoted servant. SCENE til. PERKIN WARBECK. 171 Fall on the scent : in honourable actions Safe imitation best deserves a praise. Re-enter Urswick. What, the Castilian's pass'd away ? Urs. He is, And undiscover'd ; the two hundred marks Your majesty convey'd, he gently purs'd With a right modest gravity. K. Hen. What was't He mutter'd in the earnest of his wisdom ? He spoke not to be heard ; 'twas about — Urs. Warbeck : How if King Henry were but sure of subjects, Such a wild runagate might soon be cag'd, No great ado withstanding. K. Hen. Nay, nay; something About my son Prince Arthur's match. Urs. Right, right, sir : He humm'd it out, how that King Ferdinand Swore that the marriage 'twixt the Lady Katherine His daughter and the Prince of Wales your son Should never be consummated as long As any Earl of Warwick liv'd in England, Except by new creation. K. Hen. I remember 'Twas so, indeed : the king his master swore it ? Urs. Directly, as he said. K. Hen. An Earl of Warwick ! — Provide a messenger for letters instantly To Bishop Fox. Our news from Scotland creeps ; It comes so^-^ slow, we must have airy spirits ; Our time requires dispatch. — \Aside\ The Earl of War- wick ! 15 so] Gifford printed "too." D. 172 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT ill. Let him be son to Clarence/'^ younger brother To Edward ! Edward's daughter is, I think, Mother to our Prince Arthur. — Get a messenger. [Exeunt. Scene IV. Before the castle of Norham. Enter King James, Warbeck, Crawford, Dalyell, Heron, ASTLEY, John A-Water, Skelton, and Soldiers. K. /a. We trifle time against these castle-walls ; The English prelate will not yield : once more Give him a summons. [A parky is sotindcd. Enter on the walls the Bishop of Durham armed, a truncheon in his hand, with Soldiers. War. See, the jolly clerk Appears, trimm'd like a ruffian ! K. Ja. Bishop, yet Set ope the ports, and to your lawful sovereign, Richard of York, surrender up this castle, And he will take thee to his grace ; else Tweed Shall overflow his banks with English blood, And wash the sand that cements those hard stones From their foundation. Dur. Warlike King of Scotland, Vouchsafe a few words from a man enforc'd To lay his book aside, and clap on arms^*^ Unsuitable to my age or my profession. Courageous prince, consider on what grounds You rend the face of peace, and break a league 1* Let him be son to Clarence, &.c.^ These are ominous musings of the King, who eagerly caught at the words of Ferdinand, as given above, and sought "to export the odium of this innocent prince's execution out of the land, and lay it upon his new ally." [The sub- stance, not the exact words, of Bacon's Hist. D.] 1^ and clap on arms] So the old copy: it is not improbable, however, that the poet's word was "clasp." [No, no. D.] SCENE IV. PERKIN WARBECK. 173 With a confederate king that courts your amity ; For whom too ? for a vagabond, a straggler, Not noted in the world by birth or name. An obscure peasant, by the rage of hell Loos'd from his chains to set great kings at strife. What nobleman, what common man of note, What ordinary subject hath come in, Since first you footed on our territories, To only feign a welcome ? Children laugh at Your proclamations, and the wiser pity So great a potentate's abuse by one Who juggles merely with the fawns and youth Of an instructed compliment : such spoils, Such slaughters as the rapine of your soldiers Already have committed, is enough To show your zeal in a conceited justice. Yet, great king, wake not yet my master's vengeance ; But shake that viper off which gnaws your entrails. I and my fellow-subjects are resolv'd, If you persist, to stand your utmost fury, Till our last blood drop from us. JVar. O, sir, lend No ear to this traducer^^ of my honour ! — What shall I call thee, thou gray-bearded scandal. That kick'st against the sovereignty to which Thou ow'st allegiance ? — Treason is bold-fac'd And eloquent in mischief: sacred king, Be deaf to his known malice. Dtir. Rather yield Unto those holy motions which inspire The sacred heart of an anointed body. It is the surest^** policy in princes 18 to this traducer, &c.] The 4to, by an evident oversight, reads " to this seducer," &c. There is another misprint in the same line, " Me" for " No " 19 siiresf'^i So perhaps Ford wrote: Vwt qy. "surer"? D, jy4 PERKIN WARBECK. act iii. To govern well their own than seek encroachment Upon another's right. Crmv. The king is serious, Deep in his meditation[s]. Dal. Lift them up To heaven, his better genius ! War. Can you study While such a devil raves ? O, sir ! K.Ja. Well, bishop, You'll not be drawn to mercy ? Diir. Construe me In like case by a subject of your own : My resolution's fix'd : King James, be counsell'd, A greater fate waits on thee. \Exeunt Durham and Soldiers from the walls. K. Ja. Forage through The country ; spare no prey of life or goods. War. O, sir, then give me leave to yield to nature; I am most miserable : had I been Born what this clergyman would by defame Baffle belief with, I had never sought The truth of mine inheritance with rapes Of women or of infants murder'd, virgins Deflower'd, old men butcher'd, dwellings fir'd, My land depopulated, and my people Afflicted with a kingdom's devastation : Show more remorse, great king, or I shall never Endure to see such havoc with dry eyes ; Spare, spare, my dear, dear England ! fC. Ja. You fool your piety, Ridiculously careful of an interest Another man possesseth. Where's your faction ? Shrewdly the bishop guess'd of your adherents, When not a petty burgess of some town, No, not a villager, hath yet ap})car'd SCENE IV. PERKIN WARBECK. 175 In your assistance : that should make ye whine, And not your country's sufferance, as you term it. Dal. The king is angry. CrauK And the passionate duke Effeminately dolent.-" War. The experience In former trials, sir, both of mine own Or other princes cast out of their thrones, Have-^ so acquainted me how misery Is destitute of friends or of rehef, That I can easily submit to taste Lowest reproof without contempt or words. K. Ja. An humble-minded man ! Enter Prion. Now, what intelligence Speaks Master Secretary Frion ? Fri. Henry Of England hath in open field o'erthrown The armies who oppos'd him in the right Of this young prince. K. Ja. His subsidies, you mean : — More, if you have it ? Fri. Howard Earl of Surrey, Back'd by twelve earls and barons of the north, An hundred knights and gentlemen of name, And twenty thousand soldiers, is at hand To raise your siege. Brooke, with a goodly navy. Is admiral at sea ; and Dawbeney follows With an unbroken army for a second. 20 And the passionate duke Efieminatcly dolcrit.} Thus Bacon; "It is said that Perkin, acting the part of a prince handsomely, when he saw the Scotch fell to waste the countr}-, came to the King in a passionaie [plaintive, tearful] manner, making great lamentation," d Prion. War. Frion, O, Frion, all my hopes of glory Are at a stand ! the Scottish king grows dull, Frosty, and wayward, since this Spanish agent Hath mix'd discourses with him ; they are private, I am not call'd to council now : — confusion On all his crafty shrugs ! I feel the fabric Of my designs are tottering.* Fri. Henry's policies Stir with too many engines. War. Let his mines, Shap'd in the bowels of the earth, blow up Works rais'd for my defence, yet can they never Toss into air the freedom of my birth, Or disavow my blood Plantagenet's : I am my father's son still. But, O, Frion, When I bring into count with my disasters My wife's compartnership, my Kate's, my life's, Then, then my frailty feels an earthquake. Mischief Damn Henry's plots ! I will be England's king, Or let my aunt of Burgundy report My fall in the attempt deserv'd our ancestors ! Fri. You grow too wild in passion : if you will Appear a prince indeed, confine your will 4 the fabric Of my dcsi^in arc totteyiiig."\ See note, vol. i. p. 85. SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. i8l To moderation. JVar. What a saucy rudeness Prompts this distrust ! If? If I will appear ! Appear a prince ! death throttle such deceits Even in their birth of utterance ! cursed cozenage Of trust ! Ye make me mad : 'twere best, it seems, That I should turn impostor to myself, Be mine own counterfeit, belie the truth Of my dear mother's womb, the sacred bed Of a prince murder'd and a living baffled ! iv-/. Nay, if you have no ears to hear, I have No breath to spend in vain. JVar. Sir, sir, take heed ! Gold and the promise of promotion rarely Fail in temptation. Tv/. Why to me this ? IVar. Nothing. Speak what you will ; we are not sunk so low But your advice may piece again the heart Which many cares have broken : you were wont In all extremities to talk of comfort ; Have ye none left now ? I'll not interrupt ye. Good, bear with my distractions ! If King James Deny us dwelling here, next whither must I ? I prithee, be not angry. Fri. Sir, I told ye Of letters come from Ireland ; how the Cornish Stomach their last defeat, and humbly sue That with such forces as you could partake You would in person land in Cornwall, where Thousands will entertain your title gladly. War. Let me embrace thee, hug thee ; thou'st re- viv'd My comforts ; if my cousin-king will fail. Our cause will never. lS2 PERKIN WARBECK. act iv. Enter John a-Water, Heron, Astley, Skelton. Welcome, my tried friends ! You keep your brains awake in our defence. — Prion, advise with them of these affairs, In which be wondrous secret \ I will listen What else concerns us here : be quick and wary. \Exit. Ast. Ah, sweet young prince ! — Secretary, my fel- low-counsellors and I have consulted, and jump all in one opinion directly; an if these Scotch garboils do not fadge to our minds, we will pell-mell run amongst the Cornish choughs presently and in a trice. Skelt. 'Tis but going to sea and leaping ashore, cut ten or twelve thousand unnecessary throats, fire seven or eight towns, take half a dozen cities, get into the market-place, crown him Richard the Fourth, and the business is finished. J. a- Wat. I grant ye, quoth I, so far forth as men may do, no more than men may do ; for it is good to consider when consideration may be to the purpose, otherwise — still you shall pardon me — little said is soon amended. Fri. Then you conclude the Cornish action surest? Her. We do so, and doubt not but to thrive abund- antly. Ho, my masters, had we known of the com- motion when we set sail out of Ireland, the land had been ours ere this time. Skclt. Pish, pish ! 'tis but forbearing being an earl or a duke a month or two longer. I say, and say it again, if the work go not on apace, let me never see new fashion more. I warrant ye, I warrant ye ; we will have it so, and so it shall be. Ast. This is but a cold phlegmatic country, not stirring enough for men of spirit. Give me the heart of England for my money ! SCENE HI. PERKIN WARBECK. 183 Skelt. A man may batten there in a week only, with hot loaves and butter,^ and a lusty cup of muscadine and sugar at breakfast, though he make never a meal all the month after. /. a- Wat. Surely, when I bore office I found by experience that to be much troublesome was to be much wise and busy : I have observed how filching and bragging has been the best service in these last wars ; and therefore conclude peremptorily on the de- sign in England. If things and things may fall out, as who can tell what or how — but the end will show it. Fri. Resolv'd like men of judgment ! Here to Hnger More time is but to lose it : cheer the prince. And haste him on to this ; on this depends Fame in success, or glory in our ends. [Exeunt. Scene III. A^wther part of the same. Enter King James, Durham, and Hialas. Hial. France, Spain, and Germany combine a league Of amity with England : nothing wants For settling peace through Christendom, but love Between the British monarchs, James and Henry. Dur. The English merchants, sir, have been re- ceiv'd With general procession into Antwerp ; The emperor confirms the combination. Hial. The King of Spain resolves a marriage For Katherine his daughter with Prince Arthur. Dur. France courts this holy contract. 5 ivith hot loaves and butter, \ Our ancestors must have found something peculiarly amusing in a tailor's breakfast to justify the comic writers in these eternal references to it. It is more than once noticed by Jonson ; and see Massinger, vol. iii. p. 447. j8 . PERKIN WARBECK. act iv. Hial. What can hinder A quietness in England ? — X)iir, But your suffrage To such a silly creature, mighty sir, As is but in effect an apparition, A shadow, a mere trifle ? Hial. To this union The good of both the church and commonwealth Invite ye. Dur. To this unity, a mystery Of providence points out a greater blessing For both these nations than our human reason Can search into. King Henry hath a daughter, The Princess Margaret ; I need not urge, What honour, what felicity can follow On such affinity 'twixt two Christian kings Inleagu'd by ties of blood ; but sure I am, If you, sir, ratify the peace propos'd, I dare both motion and effect this marriage For weal of both the kingdoms. K. Ja. Dar'st thou, Lord Bishop ? Dur. Put it to trial, royal James, by sending Some noble personage to the English court By way of embassy. Hial. Part of the business Shall suit my mediation. X. Ja. Well ; what heaven Hath pointed out to be, must be : you two Are ministers, I hope, of blessed fate. But herein only I will stand acquitted, No blood of innocents shall buy my peace : For Warbeck, as you nick him, came to me, Commended by the states of Christendom, A prince, though in distress ; his fair demeanour. Lovely behaviour, unappallbd spirit, SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 185 Spoke him not base in blood, however clouded. The brute beasts have both*^ rocks and caves to fly to, And men the altars of the church ; to us He came for refuge : kings come near in nature Unto the gods in being touch'd with pityj Yet, noble friends, his mixture with our blood, Even with our own, shall no way interrupt A general peace ; only I will dismiss him From my protection, throughout my dominions. In safety ; but not ever to return. Hial. You are a just king. Dur. Wise, and herein happy. K. Ja. Nor will we dally in affairs of weight : Huntley, Lord Bishop, shall with you to England Ambassador from us : we will throw down Our weapons ; peace on all sides ! Now repair Unto our council ; we will soon be with you. Hial. Delay shall question no dispatch ; heaven crown it ! \Excunt Dur. and Hial. K. Ja. A league with Ferdinand ! a marriage With English Margaret ! a free release From restitution for the late affronts ! Cessation from hostility ! and all For Warbeck, not deliver'd, but dismiss'd ! We could not wish it better. — Dalyell ! Enter Dalyell. Dal. Here, sir. K. Ja. Are Huntley and his daughter sent for ? Dal. Sent for, And come, my lord. K. Ja. Say to the English prince, 6 bcl}i\ Gifford printed "their." D. ^ kings with pity.'\ The 4to marks this with inverted commas, which Gifford very improperly retained : see note, p. 130. D. l86 PERKIN WARBECK. act iv. We want his company. Dal. He is at hand, sir. ^/;/(?r Warbeck, Katherine, Jane, Frion, Heron, Skelton, John a-Water, Astley. K. Ja. Cousin, our bounty, favours, gentleness, Our benefits, the hazard of our person. Our people's lives, our land, hath evidenc'd How much we have engag'd on your behalf : How trivial and how dangerous our hopes Appear, how fruitless our attempts in war, How windy, rather smoky, your assurance Of party shows, we might in vain repeat : But now obedience to the mother church, A father's care upon his country's weal. The dignity of state, direct our wisdom To seal an oath of peace through Christendom ; To which we're sworn already : it is you Must only seek new fortunes in the world, And find an harbour elsewere. As I promis'd On your arrival, you have met no usage Deserves repentance in your being here ; But yet I must live master of mine own : However, what is necessary for you At your departure, I am well content You be accommodated with, provided Delay prove not my enemy. War. It shall not. Most glorious prince. The fame of my designs Soars higher than report of ease and sloth Can aim at : I acknowledge all your favours Boundless and singular ; am only wretched In words as well as means to thank the grace That flow'd so liberally. Two empires firmly You're lord of, — Scotland and Duke Richard's heart : SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 187 My claim to mine inheritance shall sooner Fail than my life to serve you, best of kings ; And, witness Edward's blood in me ! I am More loth to part with such a great example Of virtue than all other mere respects. But, sir, my last suit is, you will not force From me what you have given, — this chaste lady, Resolv'd on all extremes. Kath. I am your wife ; No human power can or shall divorce My faith from duty. War. Such another treasure The earth is bankrupt of. K. Ja. I gave her, cousin, And must avow the gift ; will add withal A furniture becoming her high birth And unsuspected constancy ; provide For your attendance : we will part good friends. \Exit until DalycU. War. The Tudor hath been cunning in his plots ; His Fox of Durham would not fail at last. But what ? our cause and courage are our own : Be men, my friends, and let our cousin-king See how we follow fate as willingly As malice follows us. Ye're all resolv'd For the west parts of England ? All. Cornwall, Cornwall ! Fri. Th' inhabitants expect you daily. War. Cheerfully Draw all our ships out of the harbour, friends ; Our time of stay doth seem too long, we must Prevent intelligence ; about it suddenly. All. A prince, a prince, a prince ! \Exeiint Heron, Skelton. Aslley, and John a- Water. l88 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT iv. War. Dearest, admit not into thy pure thoughts The least of scruples, which may charge their softness With burden of distrust. Should I prove wanting To noblest^ courage now, here were the trial : But I am perfect, sweet ; I fear no change, More than thy being partner in my sufferance. Kath. My fortunes, sir, have arm'd me to encounter What chance soe'er they meet with. — Jane, 'tis fit Thou stay behind, for whither wilt thou wander ? Jane. Never till death will I forsake my mistress, Nor then in wishing to die with ye gladly. Kath. Alas, good soul ! Fri. Sir, to your aunt of Burgundy I will relate your present undertakings : From her expect on all occasions welcome. You cannot find me idle in your services. War. Go, Frion, go : wise men know how to soothe Adversity, not serve it : thou hast waited Too long on expectation ; never yet Was any nation read of so besotted In reason as t' adore the setting sun. Fly to the archduke's court ; say to the duchess, Her nephew, with fair Katherine his wife, Are on their expectation to begin The raising of an empire : if they fail, Yet the report will never. Farewell, Frion ! \^Exil Frion. This man, Kate, has been true, though now of late I fear too much familiar with the Fox.^ 8 noblesi\ Gifford printed " noble." D. 9 the Fox.] i.e. the Bishop of Durham, lord privy-seal, whom Bacon calls " a wise man, and one that could see through the ]5re- sent to the future." He stood deservedly high in Henry's confidence and favour. With respect to Frion, Warbeck was right. The defec- tion of James showed the secretary but too clearly that the fortunes of his m;ister were on the ebb ; he therefore withdrew from him pre- viously to the Cornish expedition, and returned no more. SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 189 Re-enter Dalyell with Huntley. Hunt. I come to take my leave : you need not doubt My interest in this sometime child of mine ; She's all yours now, good sir. — O, poor lost creature, Heaven guard thee with much patience ! if thou canst Forget thy title to old Huntley's family, As much of peace will settle in thy mind As thou canst wish to taste but in thy grave. Accept my tears yet, prithee ; they are tokens Of charity as true as of affection. Kath. This is the cruell'st farewell ! Hiait. Love, young gentleman. This model of my griefs ; she calls you husband ; Then be not jealous of a parting kiss, — It is a father's, not a lover's offering ; Take it, my last \Kisscs her\. — I am too much a child. Exchange of passion is to little use, So I should grow too foolish : goodness guide thee ! \^Exit. Kath. Most miserable daughter ! — Have you aught To add, sir, to our sorrows ? Dal. I resolve. Fair lady, with your leave, to wait on all Your fortunes in my person, if your lord Vouchsafe me entertainment. War. We will be bosom-friends, most noble Dal- yell ^lo For I accept this tender of your love 10 most tioble Dalyell ■] Noble indeed ! No drama that I am ac- quainted with offers four such admirable characters as Huntley and his daughter, the Lady Jane, and Dalyell. Of the Lady Jane Douglas, who follows Katherine with such affecti mate duty, I have nothing with certainty to say. It is not improbable that she was one of the numerous daughters of George fourth Earl of Angus, among whom I find a Joan or Joanna. 190 PERKIN WARBECK. act iv. Beyond ability of thanks to speak it. — Clear thy drown'd eyes, my fairest : time and industry Will show us better days, or end the worst. \Exeunt. Scene IV. The palace at Westinbistcr. Enter Oxford a7id Dawbeney. Oxf. No news from Scotland yet, my lord ? Da7v. Not any But what King Henry knows himself : I thought Our armies should have march'd that way ; his mind, It seems, is alter'd. Oxf. Victory attends His standard everywhere. DatiK Wise princes, Oxford, Fight not alone with forces. Providence Directs and tutors strength ; else elephants And barbed horses might as well prevail As the most subtle stratagems of war. Oxf. The Scottish king show'd more than common bravery In proffer of a combat hand to hand With Surrey. Daio. And but show'd it : northern bloods Are gallant being fir'd ; but the cold climate, Without good store of fuel, quickly freezeth The glowing flames. Oxf. Surrey, upon my life, Would not have shrunk an hair's-breadth. Daw. May he forfeit The honour of an English name and nature. Who would not have embrac'd it with a greediness As violent as hunger runs to food ! SCENE IV. PERKIN WARBECK. 191 'Twas an addition any worthy spirit Would covet, next to immortality, Above all joys of life : we all miss'd shares In that great opportunity. Efiter King Henry, in close cojiversation with Urswick. Oxf. The king ! See, he comes smiling. Daio. O, the game runs smooth On his side, then, believe it : cards well shuffled And dealt with cunning bring some gamester thrift, But others must rise losers. K. Hen. The train takes ? Urs. Most prosperously. K. Hm. I knew it should^^ not miss. He fondly angles who will hurl his bait Into the water 'cause the fish at first Plays round about the line and dares not bite. — Lords, we may reign your king yet : Dawbeney, Ox- ford, Urswick, must Perkin wear the crown ? Daw. A slave ! Oxf. A vagabond ! Urs. A glow-worm ! K. Uen. Now, if Frion, His practis'd politician, wear a brain Of proof. King Perkin will in progress ride Through all his large dominions ; let us meet him, And tender homage : ha, sirs ! liegemen ought To pay their fealty. Daw. Would the rascal were. With all his rabble, within twenty miles Of London ! 11 shoitld\ Gifford printed "could." D. 192 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT iv. K. Hen. Farther off is near enough To lodge him in his home : I'll wager odds, Surrey and all his men are either idle Or hasting back ; they have not work, I doubt. To keep them busy. Daw. 'Tis a strange conceit, sir. K. Hen. Such voluntary favours as our people In duty aid us with, we never scatter'd On cobweb parasites, or lavish'd out In riot or a needless hospitality : No undeserving favourite doth boast His issues from our treasury ; our charge Flows through all Europe, proving us but steward Of every contribution which provides Against the creeping canker of disturbance. Is it not rare, then, in this toil of state Wherein we are embark'd, with breach of sleep. Cares, and the noise of trouble, that our mercy Returns nor thanks nor comfort ? Still the West Murmur and threaten innovation. Whisper our government tyrannical, Deny us what is ours, nay, spurn their lives. Of which they are but owners by our gift : It must not be. Oxf. It must not, should not. Enter a Messenger with a packet. K. Hen. So then — To whom ? Mess. This packet to your sacred majesty. K. Hen. Sirrah, attend without. \_Exit Aless. Oxf. News from the North, ujjon my life. Da7v. Wise Henry Divines aforehand of events ; with him Attempts and execution are one act. SCRNE IV. PERKIN WARBECK, 153 K, Hen. Urswick, thine ear : Frion is caught ; the man Of cunning is outreach'd ; we must be safe. Should reverend Morton, our archbishop, move To a translation higher yet,^^ I tell thee My Durham owns a brain deserves that see ; He's nimble in his industry, and mounting — Thou hear'st me ? Urs. And conceive your highness fitly. K. Hen. Dawbeney and Oxford, since our army stands Entire, it were a weakness to admit The rust of laziness to eat amongst them : Set forward toward Salisbury ; the plains Are most commodious for their exercise. Ourself will take a muster of them there ; And or disband them with reward, or else Dispose as best concerns us. Daw. Salisbury ! Sir, all is peace at Salisbury. K. Hen. Dear friend, The charge must be our own ; we would a little Partake the pleasure with our subjects' ease. — Shall I entreat your loves ? Oxf. Command our lives. K. Hen. Ye're men know how to do, not to fore- think. My bishop is a jewel tried and perfect ; A jewel, lords. The post who brought these letters Must speed another to the Mayor of Exeter ; 12 To a translation higher yet,'\ i.e. to heaven. Moreton was at this time Archbishop of Canterbury. He died about three years after this period, at the great age of ninety. The King seems to have chang:ed his opinion with respect to Fox, who was removed on the archbishop's death, not to Canterbury, but to Wincliester, in which see he died. Moreton and Voy. were fast friends ; they rank high among our prelates, and were, in fact, both verv eminent men. VOL. II. O 194 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT IV. Urswick, dismiss him not. Urs. He waits your pleasure. K. Hen. Perkin a king ? a king ! Urs. My gracious lord, — K. Hen. Thoughts busied in the sphere of royalty Fix not on creeping worms without their stings, Mere excrements of earth. The use of time Is thriving safety, and a wise prevention Of ills expected. We're resolv'd for Salisbury. \Exmiit. Scene V. T/ic coast of Corinoall. A general shout -within. ^w/^^rWARBECK, Dalyell, Katiikrine, (/wrfjANE. War. After so many stonns as wind and seas Have threaten'd to our weather-beaten ships. At last, sweet fairest, we are safe arriv'd On our dear mother earth, ingrateful only To heaven and us in yielding sustenance To sly usurpers of our throne and right. These general acclamations are an omen Of happy process to their welcome lord : They flock in troops, and from all parts with wings Of duty fly to lay their hearts before us. — Unequall'd pattern of a matchless wife. How fares my dearest yet ? Kath. Confirm'd in health, By which I may the better undergo The roughest face of change ; but I shall learn Patience to hope, since silence courts aflliction, For comforts, to this truly noble gentleman, — Rare unexampled pattern of a friend ! — And my beloved Jane, the willing follower Of all misfortunes. SCENE V. PERKIN WARBECK. 195 DciL Lady, I return But barren crops of early protestations, Frost-bitten in the spring of fruitless hopes. Jane. I wait but as the shadow to the body ; For, madam, without you let me be nothing. War. None talk of sadness ; we are on the way Which leads to victory : keep cowards thoughts With desperate sullenness ! The lion faints not Lock'd in a grate, but loose disdains all force Which bars his prey, — and we are lion-hearted, — Or else no king of beasts. \Another gejieral shout ivith- in.] — Hark, how they shout, Triumphant in our cause ! bold confidence Marches on bravely, cannot quake at danger. £ufer Skelton. Ske/t Save King Richard the Fourth ! save thee, king of hearts ! The Cornish blades are men of met- tle; have proclaimed, through Bodmin^^ and the whole county, my sweet prince Monarch of England : four thousand tall yeomen, with bow and sword, already vow to live and die at the foot of King Richard. Enter Astley. Ast. The mayor, our fellow-counsellor, is servant for an emperor. Exeter is appointed for the rendezvous, and nothing wants to victory but courage and resolu- tion. Sigillatum et datum decimo Septembris, anno regni re^s prima, et cetera; confiniiatum est. All's cock-sure. War. To Exeter ! to Exeter, march on ! Commend us to our people : we in person Will lend them double spirits ; tell them so. Skelt. and Ast. King Richard, King Richard ! \Exeunt Skelt. and Ast. i=* Bodtniii] The 410 has " Bodnam ;" and so Gifford. D. 196 PERKIN WARBECK. act v. War. A thousand blessings guard our lawful arms ! A thousand horrors pierce our enemies' souls ! Pale fear unedge their weapons' sharpest points ! And when they draw their arrows to the head, Numbness shall strike their sinews ! Such advantage Hath Majesty in its pursuit of justice, That on the proppers-up of Truth's old throne It both enlightens counsel and gives heart To execution ; whiles the throats of traitors Lie bare before our mercy. O, divinity Of royal birth ! how it strikes dumb the tongues Whose prodigality of breath is brib'd By trains to greatness ! Princes are but men Distinguish'd in the fineness of their frailty, Yet not so gross in beauty of the mind ; For there's a fire more sacred purifies The dross of mixture. Herein stand the odds. Subjects are men on earth, kings men and gods. [Exeunt. ACT V. Scene I. Saint MichaePs Motint^ Cornwall. Enter Katherine a«rf Jane in riding-suits, -with one Servant. Kath. It is decreed ; and we must yield to fate, Whose angry justice, though it threaten ruin. Contempt, and poverty, is all but trial Of a weak woman's constancy in suffering. Here, in a stranger's and an enemy's land, 1 Saint Michael' % Mount,'] It appears that when Pcrkin marched on his ill-fated expedition Lady Katherine was left at this place, from which she was now preparing to withdraw, on some rumours of her husband's want of success. SCENE I. PERKIN WARBECK. 197 Forsaken and unfurnish'd of all hopes But such as wait on misery, I range, To meet affliction wheresoe'er I tread. My train and pomp of servants is reduc'd To one kind gentlewoman and this groom. — Sweet Jane, now whither must we ? Jane. To your ships, Dear lady, and turn home. Kath. Home ! I have none. Fly thou to Scotland ; thou hast friends will weep For joy to bid thee welcome ; but, O, Jane, My Jane ! my friends are desperate of comfort, As I must be of them : the common charity, Good people's alms and prayers of the gentle, Is the revenue must support my state. As for my native country, since it once Saw me a princess in the height of greatness My birth allow'd me, here I make a vow Scotland shall never see me being fall'n Or lessen'd in my fortunes. Never, Jane, Never to Scotland more will I return. Could I be England's queen, — a glory, Jane, I never fawn'd on, — yet the king who gave me Hath sent me with my husband from his presence, Deliver'd us suspected to his nation, Render'd us spectacles to time and pity ; And is it fit I should return to such As only listen after our descent From happiness enjoy'd to misery Expected, though uncertain ? Never, never ! Alas, why dost thou weep ? and that poor creature Wipe his wet cheeks too ? let me feel alone Extremities, who know to give them harbour ; Nor thou nor he has cause : you may live safely. Jane. There is no safety whiles your dangers, madam, 198 PERKIN WARBECK. act v. Are every way apparent. Serv. Pardon, lady, I cannot choose but show my honest heart ; You were ever my good lady. Kath. O, dear souls, Your shares in grief are too-too much ! Enter Dalyell. Dal. I bring, Fair princess, news of further sadness yet Than your sweet youth hath been acquainted with. Kath. Not more, my lord, than I can welcome : speak it ; The worst, the worst I look for. Bal. All the Cornish At Exeter were by the citizens Repuls'd, encounter'd by the Earl of Devonshire And other worthy gentlemen of the country. Your husband march'd to Taunton, and was there Affronted by King Henry's chamberlain f The king himself in person with his army Advancing nearer, to renew the fight On all occasions : but the night before The battles were to join, your husband privately, Accompanied with some few horse, departed From out the camp, and posted none knows whither. Kath. Fled without battle given ? - Affronted by King Hc7trys ckamhcrlaht;'\ i.e. md direct /v in front hy Dawbeney. It is sufficiently clear, from the exulting Inn- guage of this wily monarch in the scene with Urswick, p. 191, that he had made himself sure of tlie overthrow ofWarbeck, whom he had by this time environed with his agents : hence the disgraceful flight of the usurper, the recourse to the sanctuary of Bewley, and subse- (|ucnt surrender. Bacon shrewdly observes on this occasion, that "the king was . . . grown to be such a partner with P"ortune, as nobody could tell what actions the one, and what the other, owned. For it was believed generally," he adds, "that I'erkin was betrayed, and that" the king "had him all the time of his flight in a line;" a fact to which he does not seem disposed to give credit. SCENE I. PERKIN WARBECK. 199 Dal. Fled, but follow'd By Dawbeney ; all his parties left to taste King Henry's mercy,^ — for to that they yielded, — Victorious without bloodshed. Kath. O, my sorrows ! If both our lives had prov'd the sacrifice To Henry's tyranny, we had fall'n like princes, And robb'd him of the glory of his pride. Dal. Impute it not to faintness or to weakness Of noble courage, lady, but [to] foresight ; For by some secret friend he had intelligence Of being bought and sold by his base followers. Worse yet remains untold. Kath. No, no, it cannot. Dal. I fear you are betray'd : the Earl of Oxford Runs hot in your pursuit.^ ^3 (?// his parties left to taste King Henry's mercy,] The construction is — "all his parties (partisans) were [being f\ left to taste King Henry's mercy." 4 the Earl of Oxford Runs hot in your pursuit.'] "There were also sent," Lord Ba- con says, "with all speed some horse to St. Michael's Mount in Cornwall, where the Lady Katherine Gordon was left by her husband, whom in all fortunes she entirely loved, adding the virtues of a wife to the virtues of her sex." The reader, in whose breast the extra- ordinary merits of this high-born lady can scarcely fail to have created some degree of interest, will not be displeased, perhaps, with the brief recital of her subsequent fortunes, as given Ijy Sir R. Gordon, whom Douglas calls the historian of the family. After quoting the preceding passage from Bacon, Sir Robert adds; "shoe wes brought from St. Michael's Mount inCornuall, and delyvered to King Henrie the Seaventh, who intertayned her honorablie, and for her better mantenance, according to her birth and vertue, did assigne vnto her good lands and rents for all the dayes of her lyff. After the death of her husband Richard, shoe mareid Sir Mathie Cradock (a man of great power at that tyme in Clamorganshyre in Wales), of the which mariage is descended this William Earle of Pembroke, by his grand- mother, and had some lands by inheritance from the Cradockes. Lady Katheren Gordon died in Wales, and was buried in a chappell at one of the Earle of Pembrok his dwelling-places in that cuntrey. The Englesh histories doe much commend her for her beauty, com- liness, and chastetie." It would be a pity to omit the pretty passage with which Bacon winds-up her eventful story; "the name of the White Rose, which had been given to her husband's false title, was continued in common speech to her true beauty." 200 PERKIN WARBECK. act v. Kath. He shall not need ; We'll run as hot in resolution gladly To make the earl our jailor. Jane. Madam, madam, They come, they come ! Enter Oxford with his Followers. Dal. Keep back ! or he who dares Rudely to violate the law of honour Runs on my sword. Kath. Most noble sir, forbear. — What reason draws you hither, gentlemen ? Whom seek ye ? Oxf. All stand off ! — With favour, lady, From Henry, England's king, I would present Unto the beauteous princess, Katherine Gordon, The tender of a gracious entertainment. Kath. We are that princess, whom your master-king Pursues with reaching arms to draw into His power : let him use his tyranny, We shall not be his subject.^ Oxf. My commission Extends no further, excellentest lady. Than to a service ; 'tis King Henry's pleasure That you, and all that have relation t'ye. Be guarded as becomes your birth and greatness ; For, rest assur'd, sweet princess, that not aught Of what you do call yours shall find disturbance, Or any welcome other than what suits Your high condition. Kath. By what title, sir. May I acknowledge you ? Oxf. Your servant, lady, Descended from the line of Oxford's Earls, * subject.^ The 4to has " Subjects ;" and so Gifford. D. SCENK n. PERKIN WARBECK. 201 Inherits what his ancestors before him Were owners of. Kath. Your king is herein royal, That by a peer so ancient in desert As well as blood commands us to his presence. Oxf. Invites ye, princess, not commands. Kath. Pray use Your own phrase as you list : to your protection Both I and mine submit. Oxf. There's in your number A nobleman whom fame hath bravely spoken. To him the king my master bade me say How willingly he courts his friendship ; far From an enforcement, more than what in terms Of courtesy so great a prince may hope for. Dal. My name is Dalyell. Oxf. 'Tis a name hath won Both thanks and wonder from report, my lord : The court of England emulates your merit, And covets to embrace ye. Dal. I must wait on The princess in her fortunes. Oxf. Will you please, Great lady, to set forward ? Kath. Being driven By fate, it were in vain to strive with heaven. [Exeunt. Scene II. Salisbury. Enter King Henry, Surrey, Urswick, and a guard of Soldiers. K. Hen. The counterfeit, King Perkin,is escap'd :— Escap'd !" so let him ; he is hedg'd too fast Within the circuit of our English pale » Escap'd/] The 4to has " Escape ;" and so Gifford. D. 202 PERKIN WARBECK. act v. To Steal out of our ports, or leap the walls Which guard our land ; the seas are rough and wider Than his weak arms can tug with. Surrey, henceforth Your king may reign in quiet ; turmoils past. Like some unquiet dream, have rather busied Our fancy than affrighted rest of state. But, Surrey, why,'^ in articling a peace With James of Scotland, was not restitution Of losses which our subjects did sustain By the Scotch inroads question'd ? Siir. Both demanded And urg'd, my lord ; to which the king replied, In modest merriment, but smiling earnest. How that our master Henry was much abler To bear the detriments than he repay them. K. Hen. The young man, I believe, spake honest truth ; He studies to be wise betimes. — Has, Urswick, Sir Rice ap Thomas, and Lord Brook our steward, Return'd the Western gentlemen full thanks From us for their tried loyalties ? Urs. They have ; Which, as if health and life^ had reign'd amongst 'em. With open hearts they joyfully receiv'd. K. Hen. Young Buckingham is a fair-natur'd prince, Lovely in hopes, and worthy of his father ; ^ Did, Surrey, why, &c.] Henry seems to have taken an odd time to question Surrey on this point. Perhaps the poet here, as in a former scene, intended to characterise the eager cupidity of the king, always alive to his pecuniaiy interests. I'he passage stands thus in Bacon; "The Bishop (Fo.n) also . . . demanded restitution of the spoils taken by (he Scotish, or damages for the same. But the Scotish commissioners answered, that tliat was but as water spilt upon the ground, which could not begotti-n up again ; and that the king's peo- ple ruerc better able to bear the toss than tlieir jnaster to repair it." ** health and life] .Altered by Giftbrd to "life and lioalth:" but the reading of the old copy is a not indefensible sort of hysteron-pro- teron. L). SCENE II. PERKIN WARBECK. 203 Attended by an hundred knights and squires Of special name he tender'd humble service, Which we must ne'er forget: and Devonshire's wounds, Though slight, shall find sound cure in our respect. Enter Dawbeney with a Guard, leading in Warbeck, Heron, John a-Water, Astley, and Skelton, chained. Daw. Life to the king, and safety fix his throne ! I here present you, royal sir, a shadow Of majesty, but in effect a substance Of pity ; a young man, in nothing grown To ripeness but th' ambition of your mercy, — Perkin, the Christian world's strange wonder. K. Hen. Dawbeney, We observe no wonder : I behold, 'tis true, An ornament of nature, fine and polish'd, A handsome youth indeed, but not admire him. How came he to thy hands ? Daiv. From sanctuary At Bewley, near Southampton ; register'd, With these few followers, for persons privileg'd. K. Hen. I must not thank you, sir ; you were to blame T' infringe the liberty of houses sacred : Dare we be irreligious ? Daw. Gracious lord. They voluntarily resign'd themselves Without compulsion. K. Hen. So ? 'twas very well ; 'Twas very, very well. — Turn now thine eyes, Young man, upon thyself and thy past actions ; What revels in combustion through our kingdom A frenzy of aspiring youth hath danc'd, Till, wanting breath, thy feet of pride have slipt 204 PERKIN WARBECK. act v. To break thy neck ! War. But not my heart ; my heart Will mount till every drop of blood be frozen By death's perpetual winter : if the sun Of majesty be darken'd, let the sun Of life be hid from me in an eclipse Lasting and universal. Sir, remember There was a shooting-in of light when Richmond, Not aiming at a crown, retir'd, and gladly, For comfort to the Duke of Bretaine's court. Richard, who sway'd the sceptre, was reputed A tyrant then ; yet then a dawning glimmer'd To some few wandering remnants, promising day When first they ventur'd on a frightful shore; At Milford Haven ; — Da7u. Whither speeds his boldness ? Check his rude tongue, great sir. K. Heti. O, let him range : The player's on the stage still, 'tis his part ; He does but act. — What follow'd ? War. Bosworth Field \ Where, at an instant, to the world's amazement, A morn to Richmond, and a night to Richard, Appear'd at once : the tale is soon applied ; Fate, which crown'd these attempts when least assur'd, Might have befriended others like resolv'd. K. Hen. A pretty gallant ! Thus, your aunt of Burgundy, Your duchess-aunt, inform'd her nephew ; so. The lesson prompted and well conn'd, was moulded Into familiar dialogue, oft rehears'd. Till, learnt by heart, 'tis now receiv'd for truth. War. Truth, in her pure simplicity, wants art To put a feigned blush on : scorn wears only Such fashion as commends to gazers' eyes SCENE [I. PERKIN WARBECK. 205 Sad ulcerated novelty, far beneath The sphere of majesty: in such a court Wisdom and gravity are proper robes, By which the sovereign is best distinguish'd From zanies to his greatness. K. He7i. Sirrah, shift Your antic pageantry, and now appear In your own nature, or you'll taste the danger Of fooling out of season. War. I expect No less than what severity calls justice, And politicians safety ; let such beg As feed on alms : but if there can be mercy In a protested enemy, then may it Descend to these poor creatures, whose engage- ments, To th' bettering of their fortunes, have incurr'd A loss of all ; to them if any charity Flow from some noble orator, in death I owe the fee of thankfulness. K. Hen. So brave !• What a bold knave is this ! — Which of these rebels Has been the Mayor of Cork ? Daw. This wise formality. — Kneel to the king, ye rascals ! \They kneel. K. Hen. Canst thou hope A pardon, where thy guilt is so apparent ? J. a- Wat. Under your good favours, as men are men, they may err ; for I confess, respectively, in taking great parts, the one side prevailing, the other side must go down : herein the point is clear, if the proverb hold, that hanging goes by destiny, that it is to little purpose to say, this thing or that shall be thus or thus ; for, as the Fates will have it, so it must be ; and who can help it? 2o6 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT V. Dmv. O, blockhead ! thou a privy-counsellor? Beg life, and cry aloud, " Heaven save King Henry !" J. a-Wat. Every man knows what is best, as it happens ; for my own part, I believe it is true, if I be not deceived, that kings must be kings and subjects subjects ; but which is which, you shall pardon me for that : whether we speak or hold our peace, all are mortal ; no man knows his end. K. Hen. We trifle time with follies. Her. John a- W. Ast. Skclt. Mercy, mercy ! K. Hen. Urswick, command the dukeling and these fellows \Thcy rise. To Digby, the Lieutenant of the Tower : With safety let them be convey'd to London. It is our pleasure no uncivil outrage, Taunts or abuse be sufifer'd to their persons ; They shall meet fairer law than they deserve. Time may restore their wits, whom vain ambition Hath many years distracted. War. Noble thoughts Meet freedom in captivity : the Tower, — Our childhood's dreadful nursery ! K. Hen. No more ! Urs. Come, come, you shall have leisure to bethink ye. \Exit Urs. with Perk, and his Fol- loivers, guarded. K. Hen. Was ever so much impudence in forgery ? The custom, sure, of being styl'd a king Hath fasten'd in his thought that he is such ; But we shall teach the lad another language : 'Tis good we have him fast. Daiv. The hangman's physic Will purge this saucy humour. K. Hen. Very likely ; SCENE ir. PERKIN WARBECK. 207 Yet we could temper mercy with extremity, Being not too far provok'd. Enter Oxford, Katherine in her richest attire^ Dal- YELL, Jane, and Attendants. Oxf. Great sir, be pleas'd, With your accustom'd grace to entertain The Princess Katherine Gordon. K. Hen. Oxford, herein We must beshrew thy knowledge of our nature. A lady of her birth and virtues could not Have found us so unfurnish'd of good manners As not, on notice given, to have met her Half way in point of love. — Excuse, fair cousin, The oversight : O, fie ! you may not kneel ; 'Tis most unfitting : first, vouchsafe this welcome, A welcome to your own ; for you shall find us But guardian to your fortune[s] and your honours. Kath. My fortunes and mine honours are weak champions. As both are now befriended, sir : however, Both bow before your clemency. K. Hen. Our arms Shall circle them from malice — A sweet lady ! Beauty incomparable ! — here lives majesty At league with love. Kath. O, sir, I have a husband. K. Hen. We'll prove your father, husband, friend, and servant. Prove what you wish to grant us. — Lords, be careful A patent presently be drawn for issuing A thousand pounds from our exchequer yearly During our cousin's life. — Our queen shall be Your chief companion, our own court your home, Our subjects all your servants. 2o8 PERKIN WARBECK. act v. Kath. But my husband ? K. Hen. By all descriptions, you are noble Dalyell, Whose generous truth hath fam'd a rare observance. We thank ye ; 'tis a goodness gives addition To every title boasted from your ancestry, In all most worthy. Dal. Worthier than your praises, Right princely sir, I need not glory in. K. Hen. Embrace him, lords. — Whoever calls you mistress Is lifted in our charge. — A goodlier beauty Mine eyes yet ne'er encounter'd. Kath. Cruel misery Of fate ! what rests to hope for ? K. Hen. Forward, lords, To London. — Fair, ere long I shall present ye With a glad object, peace, and Huntley's blessing. \Exeunt. Scene III. London. The To7iier-hill. itw/^r Constable (?;/^ Officers, Warbeck, Ukswick, <7;/rf Lambert SiMNEL as a falconer, folUmicd by the rabble. Const. Make room there ! keep off, I require ye ; and none come within twelve foot of his majesty's new stocks, upon pain of displeasure. — Bring forward the, malefactors. — Friend, you must to this gear, no remedy. — Open the hole, and in with his^ legs, just in the middle hole; there, that hole. \lVarbeck is put in the stocks.'] — Keep off, or I'll commit you all : shall not a man in authority be obeyed ? — So, so, there ; 'tis as it should be : put on the padlock, and give me the key. — Off, I say, keep off ! 9 his] Gifford printed " the." D. SCENE in. PERKIN WARBECK. 209 Urs. Yet, Warbeck, clear thy conscience : thou hast tasted King Henry's mercy liberally ; the law Has forfeited thy life ; an equal jury Have doom'd thee to the gallows ; twice most wickedly, Most desperately, hast thou escap'd the Tower, Inveigling to thy party with thy witchcraft Young Edward Earl of Warwick, son to Clarence, Whose head must pay the price of that attempt ; Poor gentleman, unhappy in his fate, And ruin'd by thy cunning ! so a mongrel May pluck the true stag down. Yet, yet, confess Thy parentage ; for yet the king has mercy. Sim. You would be Dick the Fourth; very likely ! Your pedigree is publish'd f^ you are known For Osbeck's son of Toumay, a loose runagate, A landloper ; your father was a Jew, Turn'd Christian merely to repair his miseries : Where's now your kingship ? War. Baited to my death ? Intolerable cruelty ! I laugh at The Duke of Richmond's practice on my fortunes : Possession of a crown ne'er wanted heralds. Sim. You will not know who I am ? Urs. Lambert Simnel, Your predecessor in a dangerous uproar ; 10 Your pedigree is publish'd, &c.] From Bacon; "Thus there- fore it came to pass. There was a townsman of Toumay . . . whose name was John Osbeck, a converted Jew, married to Katherine de Faro, whose business drew him to live for a time witli his wife at London, in King Edward the IVth's days. During wliich time he had a son by her ; and being known in court, the king . . . did him the honour as to be godfatlier to his child, and named him Peter. But afterwards proving a dainty and effeminate youth, he was com- monly called by the diminutive of his name, Peter-kin or Perkin." The term landloper, applied to him by Simnel, is also from the histo- rian ; " He (Perkin) had been from his childhood such a wanderer, or, as the king called it, such a landloper, as it was extreme hard to hunt out his nest." VOL. II. P 2IO PERKIN WARBECK. act v. But, on submission, not alone receiv'd To grace, but by the king vouchsafe! his service. Simn. I would be Earl of Warwick, toil'd and ruffled Against my master, leap'd to catch the moon, Vaunted my name Plantagenet, as you do ; An earl, forsooth ! whenas in truth I was. As you are, a mere rascal : yet his majesty, A prince compos'd of sweetness, — Heaven protect him ! — Forgave me all my villanies, repriev'd The sentence of a shameful end, admitted My surety of obedience to his service. And I am now his falconer ; live plenteously, Eat from the king's purse, and enjoy the sweetness Of liberty and favour ; sleep securely : And is not this, now, better than to buffet The hangman's clutches, or to brave the cordage Of a tough halter which will break your neck ? So, then, the gallant totters ! — prithee, Perkin, Let my example lead thee ; be no longer A counterfeit ; confess, and hope for pardon. War. For pardon ! hold, my heart-strings, whiles contempt Of injuries, in scorn, may bid defiance To this base man's foul language ! — Thou poor ver- min, How dar'st thou creep so near me ? thou an earl ! Why, thou enjoy'st as much of happiness As all the swing of slight ambition flew at. A dunghill was thy cradle. So a puddle, By virtue of the sunbeams, breathes a vapour T' infect the purer air, which drops again Into the muddy womb that first exhal'd it. Bread and a slavish ease, with some assurance SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 211 From the base beadle's whip, crown'd all thy hopes : But, sirrah, ran there in thy veins one drop Of such a royal blood as flows in mine, Thou wouldst not change condition, to be second In England's state, without the crown itself. Coarse creatures are incapable of excellence : But let the world, as all to whom I am This day a spectacle, to time deliver, And by tradition fix posterity Without another chronicle than truth, How constantly my resolution sufFer'd A martyrdom of majesty. Sim/i. He's past Recovery ; a Bedlam cannot cure him. Urs. Away, inform the king of his behaviour. Simn. Perkin, beware the rope ! the hangman's coming. [Exif. Urs. If yet thou hast no pity of thy body, Pity thy soul ! Enter Katherine, Jane, Dalyell, and Oxford. Jane. Dear lady ! — Oxf. Whither will ye, Without respect of shame ? Katli. Forbear me, sir, And trouble not the current of my duty. — O, my lov'd lord ! can any scorn be yours In which I have no interest ? — Some kind hand Lend me assistance, that I may partake Th' infliction of this penance. — My life's dearest. Forgive me; I have stay'd too long from tendering Attendance on reproach ; yet bid me welcome. War. Great miracle of constancy ! my miseries Were never bankrupt of their confidence In worst afflictions, till this ; now I feel them. 2 12 PERKIN WARBECK. act v. Report and thy deserts, thou best of creatures, Might to eternity have stood a pattern For every virtuous wife without this conquest. Thou hast outdone belief; yet may their ruin In after-marriages be never pitied, To whom thy story shall appear a fable ! Why wouldst thou prove so much unkind to gi'eatness To glorify thy vows by such a servitude ? I cannot weep ; but trust me, dear, my heart Is liberal of passion. — Harry Richmond, A woman's faith hath robb'd thy fame of triumph ! Oxf. Sirrah, leave-ofif your juggling, and tie up The devil that ranges in your tongue. Urs. Thus witches, Possess'd, even [to] their deaths deluded,^^ say They have been wolves and dogs, and sail'd in egg- shells Over the sea, and rid on fiery dragons, Pass'd in the air more than a thousand miles. All in a night : — the enemy of mankind Is powerful, but false, and falsehood confident.^^ Oxf. Remember, lady, who you are j come from That impudent impostor. Kath. You abuse us : For when the holy churchman join'd our hands, Our vows were real then ; the ceremony Was not in apparition, but in act. — Be what these people term thee, I am certain 11 Thus witches, Possess'd, CVC71 [to] their deaths deluded, &c.] The old copy is imperfect here ; it reads, " Possess'd, even their deaths deluded," &c. Perhaps it may be set right by a change still more slight than that of the text, by reading "e'en in" for " even." Of the fact itself the age of our poet afforded unfortunately too many instances. ^'- and falsehood confident.'] Gifford unnecessarily printed "and falsehood 's confident." D. SCENE in. PERKIN WARBECK. 213 Thou art my husband, no divorce in heaven Has been su'd-out between us ; 'tis injustice For any earthly power to divide us : Or we will live or let us die together. There is a cruel mercy. IVar. Spite of tyranny We reign in our affections, blessed woman ! Read in my destiny the wreck of honour ; Point out, in my contempt of death, to memory Some miserable happiness ; since herein. Even when I fell, I stood enthron'd a monarch Of one chaste wife's troth pure and uncorrupted. Fair angel of perfection, immortality Shall raise thy name up to an adoration, Court every rich opinion of true merit, And saint it in the Calendar of Virtue, When I am turn'd into the self-same dust Of which I was first form'd. Oxf. The lord ambassador, Huntley, your father, madam, should he look on Your strange subjection in a gaze so public, Would blush on your behalf, and wish his country Unleft for entertainment to such sorrow. Xaf/i. Why art thou angry, Oxford ? I must be More peremptory in my duty. — Sir, Impute it not unto immodesty That I presume to press you to a legacy Before we part for ever. War. Let it be, then. My heart, the rich remains of all my fortunes. Kaf/i. Confirm it with a kiss, pray. War. O, with that I wish to breathe my last ! upon thy lips. Those equal twins of comeliness, I seal The testament of honourable vows : [Kisses her. 214 PERKIN WARBECK. act v. Whoever be that man that shall unkiss This sacred print next, may he prove more thrifty In this world's just applause, not more desertful ! Kath. By this sweet pledge of both our souls, I swear To die a faithful widow to thy bed ; Not to be forc'd or won : O, never, never 1^^ Enter Surrey, Dawbeney, Huntley, and Crawford. Daw. Free the condemned person; quickly free him ! What has he yet confess'd ? [ Warbeck is taken out of the stocks. Urs. Nothing to purpose ; But still he will be king. Sur. Prepare your journey To a new kingdom, then, unhappy raadman,^* Wilfully foolish ! — See, my lord ambassador, Your lady daughter will not leave the counterfeit In this disgrace of fate. Hunt. I never pointed Thy marriage, girl ; but yet, being married, Enjoy thy duty to a husband freely. The griefs are mine. I glory in thy constancy ; And must not say I wish that I had miss'd Some partage in these trials of a patience. Kath. You will forgive me, noble sir ? Hunt. Yes, yes ; In every duty of a wife and daughter 13 The better genius of Ford, which had so admirably served him hitherto, appears to have left his side at this inomctit ; he would not else have permitted Katherine to injure herself by a speech for which there was not the slightest occasion. She should have had nothing in common with the Player Queen [in Hamlet. D.], no, not even an oath. 1* unhappy madman, Wilfully foolish f] The 410, Ijy an unlucky transposition, reads " madam." SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 215 I dare not disavow diee. To your husband, — For such you are, sir, — I impart a farewell Of manly pity ; what your life has pass'd through, The dangers of your end will make apparent ; And I can add, for comfort to your sufferance, No cordial, but the wonder of your frailty, Which keeps so firm a station. We are parted. War. We are. A crown of peace renew thy age, Most honourable Huntley ! — Worthy Crawford ! We may embrace ; I never thought thee injury. Craw. Nor was I ever guilty of neglect Which might procure such thought. I take my leave, sir. War. To you. Lord Dalyell, — what? accept a sigh, 'Tis hearty and in earnest. Bal. I want utterance ; My silence is my farewell. Kath. O, O ! Jane. Sweet madam. What do you mean ? — My lord, your hand. \^To Dal. Dal. Dear lady, Be pleas'd that I may wait ye to your lodging.^'' \Exeiint Dal. and Jane, supporting Kath. Enter Sheriff and Officers with Skelton, Astley, He- ron, and John a-Water, with halters about their necks. Oxf. Look ye ; behold your followers, appointed To wait on ye in death ! War. Why, peers of England, We'll lead 'em on courageously : I read A triumph over tyranny upon Their several foreheads. — Faint not in the moment Of victory ! our ends, and Warwick's head, 15 lodging.'] Gifford printed "lodgings." D. 2i6 PERKIN WARBECK. act v. Innocent Warwick's head, — for we are prologue But to his tragedy, — conclude the wonder Of Henry's fears ;^'^ and then the glorious race Of fourteen kings, Plantagenets, determines In this last issue male ; Heaven be obey'd ! Impoverish time of its amazement, friends, And we will prove as trusty in our payments As prodigal to nature in our debts. Death ? pish ! 'tis but a sound; a name of air ; A minute's storm, or not so much : to tumble From bed to bed, be massacred alive By some physicians, for a month or two. In hope of freedom from a fever's torments. Might stagger manhood ; here the pain is past Ere sensibly 'tis felt. Be men of spirit ! Spurn coward passion ! so illustrious mention Shall blaze our names, and style us Kings o'er Death. Daw. Away, impostor beyond precedent ! \Exeunt Sheriff and Officers with the Frisotiers. No chronicle records his fellow. Hunt. I have Not thoughts left : 'tis sufficient in such cases Just laws ought to proceed. Enter King Henry, Durham, and Hialas. K. Hen. We are resolv'd. Your business, noble lords, shall find success Such as your king importunes. Hunt. You are gracious. K. Hen. Perkin, we are inform'd, is arm'd to die ; i" our ends, and Warwick's head, — conclude the wotidcr Of Hc7!ry's fears-] This j^oor prince, as Lord Bacon calls him, was undoubtedly sacrificed to the barbarous policy of the king. He was brought to trial almost immediately after Warbeck's death, con- demned, and executed for conspiring with the former to raise sedi- tion ! He made no defence, and probably quitted without much regret a life that had never known one ha]ipy day. SCENE III. PERKIN WARBECK. 217 In that we'll honour him. Our lords shall follow To see the execution ; and from hence We gather this fit use,^^ — that public states, As our particular bodies, taste most good In health when purged of corrupted blood. [Exmnt. 17 We gather this fit use,] The poet seems to apply this word in the puritanical sense (then sufficiently familiar) of doctrinal or practical deduction. See Massi?iger, vol. iii. p. 293, and Joiison, vol. vi. p. 55. I cannot dismiss this " chronicle history," as Ford calls it, with- out observing that it has been much underrated. That the materials are borrowed from Lord Bacon is sufficiently clear ; but the poet has arranged them with skill, and conducted his plot with considerable dexterity to the fatal catastrophe. Perkin is admirably drawn ; and it would be unjust to the author to overlook the striking consistency with which he has marked his character. Whatever might be his own opinion of this person's pretensions, he has never suffered him to betray his identity with the Duke of York in a single thought or expression. Perkin has no soliloquies, no side-speeches, to compro- mise his public assertions ; and it is pleasing to see with what inge- nuity Ford has preserved him from the contamination of real history, and contrived to sustain his dignity to the last with all imaginable decorum, and thus rendered him a fit subject for the tragic Muse. Of Huntley, the noble Huntley, and Dalyell, I have already spoken : the author seems, in truth, to have lavished most of his care on the Scotch characters, and with a success altogether proportioned to his exertions. Of his English personages much cannot be said, except, indeed, that he has given a most faithful portraiture of the cold, cal- culating, stern, shrewd, and avaricious Henry. It is observable that the style of this piece, though occasionally deficient in animation, is more equable, clear, and dignified than that of any other of his works. It is such as the historic drama ought to appear in, and may'justly excite some regret that die author had not more frequently taken his plots from our domestic struggles. Another thing, too, may be noticed. In most of his tragedies the trivial and comic personages are poorly drawn : if they attempt to be witty, they usually fall into low buffoonry ; and if they aim at a scene of mirth, are sure to create sadness or disgust. The low characters of this play do neither. They are uniformly sustained ; their language, though technical, is not repulsive ; and the style of that " wise piece of for- mality," the Mayor of Cork, who does not venture on one positive expression from first to last, is not only supported with undeviating skill, but rendered really amusing. 2i8 PERKIN WARBECK. ACT v. EPILOGUE. Here has appear'd, though in a several fashion, The threats of majesty, the strength of passion, Hopes of an empire, change of fortunes ; all What can to theatres of greatness fall. Proving their weak foundations. Who will please, Amongst such several sights, to censure these No births abortive, nor^^ a bastard brood, — Shame to a parentage or fosterhood, — May warrant by their loves all just excuses, And often find a welcome to the Muses. 18 nor] Gifford printed "not." D. THE FANCIES CHASTE AND NOBLE. The title-page of this comedy, of which there is but one edition, stands thus in the 4to ; "The Fancies, Chast and Noble : Presented by the Queenes Maiesties Sen^ants, At the Phoenix in Drury-lane. Fide Honor. London, Printed by E. P. for Henry Seile, and are to be sold at his shop, at the Tygers Head in Fleetstreet, over-against Saint Dunstans Church, 1638." It was probably licensed for the stage in 1637, as Ford brought out a new piece ( The Lady's Trial) this year. TO THE RIGHT NOBLE LORD, THE LORD RANDAL MACDONNELL, EARL OF ANTRIM IN THE KINGDOM OF IRELAND, LORD VISCOUNT DUNLUCE.l MY LORD, Princes and worthy personages of your own emi- nence have entertained poems of this nature with a serious welcome. The desert of their authors might transcend mine, not their study of service. A prac- tice of courtship to greatness hath not hitherto, in me, aimed at any thrift; yet I have ever honoured virtue, as the richest ornament to the noblest titles. Endeavour of being known to your lordship by such means I conceive no ambition, the extent being 1 ' ' This nobleman was the son of Sir Randal Macdonnell, who in his youth joined in Tyrone's rebellion, but subsequently became a loyal subject of King James, and contributed greatly to the civilisa- tion of Ireland, for which ser\-ice he was created successively Viscount Dunluce, and Earl of Antrim. He died i8th December 1636. The peer who succeeded him, and to whom the present play is dedicated, was bom in 1609. He attended King Charles I. in his expedition against Scotland in 1639 ; was accused of joining the rebels in Ireland in 1642, but cleared ; but subsequently joined them for the benefit of his royal master. He was twice imprisoned by Major-General Monro in Carrickfergus, but escaped both times. In 1643 he was created Marquis of Antrim. Though he made his peace with Cromwell, he assisted Charles II. in his escape after the battle of Worcester. He died in the year 1673, aged 64." 222 DEDICATION. bounded by humility : so neither can the argument appear ungracious, nor the writer in that without al- lowance. You enjoy, my lord, the general suffrage for your freedom of merits : may you likewise please, by this particular presentment, amongst the number of such as faithfully honour those merits to admit'-^ into your noble construction John Ford. 2 amongst the number of such as faithfully honour those merits to admit, &c.] The 4to has "Amongst the number of such as / faith- fully honour, those merits," (S:c. ; which to me is unintelhgible. There can be Httle doubt that the pronoun was inserted through mistake, or misapprehension of the poet's meaning ; most probably the latter. — There is something pleasing in this short Dedication. It displays a spirit of independence very honourable to the poet, and yet is suffi- ciently respectful to his patron. DRAMATIS PERSONS. OCTAVIO, marqiiis of Sienna. Troylo-Savelli, his nephew. Livio, brother to Castamela. ROMANELLO, brother to Flavia. Julio de Varana, lord of Camerino. Camillo, ) (■ attendants on Tuho. Vespucci, ) Fabricio, a merchant, Flavia's first hijsband. NiTiDO, a page, \ Secco, a barber, > attendants on the Marquis. Spadone, ) Castamela, sister to Livio. Clarella, ^ Silvia, I the Fancies. Floria, ) Flavia, wife to Julio. MoROSA, guardianess to the Fancies. Scene — Sienna. PROLOGUE. The Fancies ! that's our play : in il^is shown Nothing but what our author knows his own Without a learned theft ; no servant here To some fair mistress borrows for his ear His lock,^ his belt, his sword, the fancied grace Of any pretty ribbon ; nor, in place Of charitable friendship, is brought in A thriving gamester, that doth chance to win A lusty sum, while the good hand doth ply him, And Fancies this or that to him sits by him. His free invention runs but in conceit Of mere imaginations ; there's the height Of what he writes ; which if traduc'd by some, 'Tis well, he says, he's far enough from home. For you, for him, for us, then this remains. Fancy your own opinions'* for our pains. 3 borrows for his car His lock,] This allusion is to the ribbon, or love-lock, worn as an ornament in the ear. [A love-lock was a long lock of hair, often tied and plaited with ribbon, worn on the left side, and hanging down by the shoulder. D.] * Fancy your own opinions'] The old copy reads "Fancy your even opinions." Ford appears to have been on the Continent when this piece was first given to the stage. VOL. II. THE FANCIES CHASTE AND NOBLE. Scene I. An apartment in the palace. \j\y^^^ \ 1^ ' Enter Troylo-Savelli and Livio. -^ Troy. Do, do ; be wilful-desperate ; 'tis manly. Build on your reputation ! such a fortune May furnish-out your tables, trim your liveries, Enrich your heirs with purchase of a patrimony Which shall hold-out beyond the waste of riot ; Stick honours on your heraldry, with titles As swelling and as numerous as may likely Grow to a pretty volume, — here's eternity ! All this can reputation, marry, can it ; Indeed, what not ? Liv. Such language from a gentleman So noble in his quality as you are, Deserves, in my weak judgment, rather pity Than a contempt. Iroy. Couldst thou consider, Livio, The fashion of the times, their study, practice, Nay, their ambitions, thou wouldst soon distinguish Betwixt the abject lowness of a poverty 228 THE FANCIES ACT i. And the applauded triumph^ of abundance, Though compass'd by the meanest service. Wherein Shall you betray your guilt to common censure, Waving the private charge of your opinion, By rising up to greatness, or at least To plenty, which now buys it ? Liv. Troylo-Savelli Plays merrily on my wants. Troy. Troylo-Savelli Speaks to the friend he loves, to his own Livio. Look, prithee, through the Great Duke's court in Florence, Number his favourites, and then examine By what steps some chief officers in state Have reach'd the height they stand in. Liv. By their merits. Troy. Right, by their merits : well he merited Th' intendments o'er the galleys at Ligorne,^ — Made grand collector of the customs there, — Who led the prince unto his wife's chaste bed, And stood himself by in his night-gown, fearing The jest might be discover'd : was't not handsome ? The lady knows not yet on't. Liv. Most impossible. Troy. He merited well to wear a robe of chamlet Who train'd his brother's daughter, scarce a girl, Into the arms of Mont-Argentorato f Whiles the young lord of Telamon, her husband, Was packeted to France to study courtship,^ 1 trmmph] Gifford printed " triumphs." D. 2 Ligorne^ Altered here by Gifford to " Leghorn :" but see vol. i. p. 141, where he retains the earlier form of the name. D. 3 Mont-Argentorato 1^ The 4to has " AIotit-Angentorato." D. ■* /(J i-Zwi/v courtship, ] i.e. the language and manners of a court. Thus Massinger ; ' ' What she wanted In courtship was, I hope, supplied in civil And modest entertainment." Great Duke of Florence. SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 229 Under, forsooth, a colour of employment, — Employment ! yea, of honour. Liv. You're well read In mysteries of state. Troy. Here in Sienna, Bold Julio de Varana, lord of Camerine, Held it no blemish to his blood and greatness From a plain merchant with a thousand ducats To buy his wife, nay, justify the purchase; Procur'd it by a dispensation From Rome, allow'd and warranted : 'twas thought By his physicians that she was a creature Agreed best with the cure of the disease His present new infirmity then labour'd in. Yet these are things in prospect of the world, Advanc'd, employ'd, and eminent. Liv. At best 'Tis but a goodly panderism. Troy. Shrewd business ! Thou child in thrift, thou fool of honesty, Is't a disparagement for gentlemen, For friends of lower rank, to do the offices Of necessary kindness without fee For one another, courtesies of course. Mirths of society ; when petty mushrooms. Transplanted from their dunghills, spread on moun- tains, And pass for cedars by their servile flatteries On great men's vices ? Pander ! thou'rt deceiv'd ; The word includes preferment ; 'tis a title Of dignity : I could add somewhat more else. Liv. Add anything of reason. Troy. Castamela, Thy beauteous sister, like a precious tissue Not shap'd into a garment fit for wearing, 230 THE FANCIES ACT i. Wants the adornments of the workman's cunnmg To set the richness of the piece at view, Though in herself all wonder. Come, I'll tell thee : A way there may be — know, I love thee, Livio — To fix this jewel in a ring of gold, Yet lodge it in a cabinet of ivory. White, pure, unspotted ivory : put case, Livio himself shall keep the key on't ? Liv. O, sir, Create me what you please of yours ; do this, You are another nature. Troy. Be, then, pliable To my first rules of your advancement. — See ! Octavio, my good uncle, the great Marquis Of our Sienna, comes, as we could wish, In private. Enter Octavio,^ Noble sir ! Oct. My bosom's secretary, My dearest, best-lov'd nephew ! Troy. We've been thirsty In our pursuit.*"' — Sir, here's a gentleman Desertful of your knowledge, and as covetous Of entertainment from it : you shall honour Your judgment to intrust him to your favours ; His merits will commend it. Oct. Gladly welcome ; Your o\vn worth is a herald to proclaim it. For taste of your prefemient, we admit you The chief provisor of our horse. 5 Enter Octavio.'\ The 4to adds "and Nitido" (his page) ; which Gifford omitted, as inconsistent with the preceding "In private." D. 6 We've been thirsty In o7ir pursuit.'] i. e. sharp, eager, active. SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 23 1 Liv. Your bounty Styles me your ever servant. Troy, [aside to Od.] He's our own ; Surely, nay, most persuadedly. — My thanks, sir, Owes to this just engagement.'' Od. Slack no time To enter on your fortunes. — Thou art careful, My Troylo, in the study of a duty. His name is ? — Troy. Livio.^ Zizf. Livio, my good lord. Ocf. Again, you're welcome to us. — [Aside to Troj.] Be as speedy, Dear nephew, as thou'rt constant. — Men of parts. Fit parts and sound, are rarely to be met with ; But being met with, therefore to be cherish'd With love and with supportance. While I stand, Livio can no way fall : — yet once more, welcome ! [£xtt. Troy. An honourable liberality, Timely dispos'd without delay or question, Commands a gratitude. Is not this better Than waiting three or four months at livery. With cap and knee unto this chair of state And to that painted arras, for a nod^ From goodman-usher or the formal secretary ; 7 My thanks, sir. Owes to this just engagement.'] Our old writers sometimes used thanks (like 7neans, &c.) with a verb singular. The sense is — " IVIy thanks are due, or owing, to this just engagement." 8 Livio.] This word forms the conclusion of the preceding speech in the 4to. D. ^ And to that painted arras, for a nod] The 4to reads "And to their painted arras for a need," which I do not understand. Troylo is evidently congratulating Livio on his entering at once into the good graces of his lord, without stooping (as was too frequently the case) to the meanness of flattering the proud and formal domestics of his patron's establishment, the steward, gentleman-usher, &c. If the reader prefers need to 7iod, I see no great objection. " Cup and 232 THE FANCIES act i. Especially the juggler with the purse, That pays some shares in all ? A younger brother, Sometimes an elder, not well trimm'd i' th' headpiece, May spend what his friend left, in expectation Of being turn'd out of service — for attendance !^*^ Or marry a waiting- woman, and be damn'd for't To open laughter, and, what's worse, old beggary ! — What thinks my Livio of this rise at first ? Is't not miraculous ? Liv. It seems the bargain Was driven before between ye. Troy. 'Twas, and nothing Could void it but the peevish resolution Of your dissent from goodness, as you call it ; A thin, a threadbare honesty, a virtue Without a living to't. Liv. I must resolve To turn my sister whore ? speak a home-word For my old bachelor lord ? — so ! is't not so ? A trifle in respect of^^ present means ; Here's all. Troy. Be yet more confident ; the slavery Of such an abject oftice shall not tempt The freedom of thy^^ spirit : stand ingenious To thine own fate,-^^ and we will practise wisely Without the charge of scandal. Liv. May it prove so ! \Exeimt. knee" [the reading of the 4to, which Gifford retained], I doubt not, should be "cap and knee," as we have it in The Sun's Darling. It was not usual to present the cup kneeling to any but princes. '^^ Of being turn'd out ofscrvicc^for attendance !\ i. e. as the sole reward of his pains. " of\ Gifford printed "to." D. 12 thy\ The4tohas "my." D. 1* stand ingenious To thine own fate,'] i.e. labour to forward the plans of fortune by thy own dexterity, &c. SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 233 Scene II. The street. Enta- SeccO with a casting-bottle}^ spriuklirjg his hat and face, and a little looking-glass at his girdle, setting his countenance. Sec. Admirable ! incomparably admirable ! to be the minion, the darling, the delight of love ; 'tis a very- tickling to the marrow, a kissing i' the blood, a bosom- ing the ecstasy, the rapture of virginity, soul and par- adise of perfection, — ah, pity of generation, Secco, there are no more such men ! Enter Spadone. Spa. Oyes ! if any man, woman, or beast, have found, stolen, or taken up a fine, very fine male bar- ber, of the age of above or under eighteen, more or less — Sec. Spadone, hold ; what's the noise ? Spa. Umph ! pay the crier: I have been almost lost myself in seeking you : here's a letter from — Sec. Whom, whom, my dear Spadone ? whom ? Spa. Soft and fair ! an you be so brief, I'll return it whence it came, or look out a new owner. — Oyes ! Sec. Low, low ! what dost mean ? is't from the glory of beauty, Morosa, the fairest fair ? Be gentle to me ; here's a ducat : speak low, prithee. Spa. Give me one, and take t'other : 'tis from the party. \_Receives the ducat from Sccco, and gives him the letter?^ Golden news, believe it. Sec. Honest Spadone ! — Divine Morosa ! \Reads. Spa. \asidc\ Fairest fair, quoth'a ? so is an old rotten coddled mongrel, parcel-bawd, parcel-midwife ; 1* with a casting-bottle, (Src] A small phial for perfumes, sweet waters, &c., which in Ford's time were in more general use than at present. For the fashion of wearing mirrors at the girdle and in the hat, see Massinger, vol. iv. p. 8, and Jonson, vol. ii. p. 263. 234 THE FANCIES ACT i. all the marks are quite out of her mouth ; not the stump of a tooth left in her head to mumble the curd of a posset. — Signor, 'tis as I told ye ; all's right. Sec. Right, just as thou toldest me ; all's right. Spa. To a very hair, Signor mio. Sec. For which, Sirrah Spadone, I will make thee a man ; a man, dost hear ? I say, a man. Spa. Thou'rt a prick-eared foist,^^ a cittern-headed gewgaw, a knack, a snipper-snapper. Twit me with the decrement of my pendants ! though I am made a gelding, and, like a tame buck, have lost my dowsets, — more a monster than a cuckold with his horns seen, — yet 1 scorn to be jeered by any checker-approved barbarian^'^ of ye all. Make me a man ! I defy thee. Sec. How now, fellow, how now ! roaring ripe in- deed ! Spa. Indeed ! thou'rt worse : a dry shaver, a cop- per-basined suds-monger. Sec. Nay, nay ; by my mistress' fair eyes, I meant no such thing. Spa. Eyes in thy belly ! The reverend madam shall know how I have been used. I will blow my nose in thy casting-bottle, break the teeth of thy combs, poison thy camphire-balls, slice out thy towels 15 Thou'rt a prick-eared foist, &c.] This stuff is hardly worth explaining ; but it may be noticed en passant, that foist is one of the thousand cant terms for a rogue of any kind ; that cittern-headed means ugly, in allusion to the grotesque and monstrous figures with which these and similar musical instruments were ornamented ; that knack is a slight inconsiderate toy; and snipper-snapper whatever of vituperative tlie reader pleases. [In what follows the 4to has "de- crements ;" and so Gifford. D.] 1" by any cliccker-approved barbariafi] i. e. by any favourite of taverns and their frequenters. Or, as Secco is not tainted with the vice of drunkenness, may we venture to suppose that a barber's shop, like a tavern, was occasionally denoted by the sign of the chequers? Ford seems tickled with his facetious pun on barber ; for he uses it again in a subsequent passage, where Spadone calls Secco, who is about to shave him, " a precious barbarian." SCENE 11. CHASTE AND NOBLPl 235 with thine own razor, betallow thy tweezes, and urine in thy basin : — make me a man ! Sec. Hold, take another ducat. As I love new clothes, — Sj)a. Or cast old ones. Sec. Yes, or cast old ones, — I intended no injury. Spa. \takhig the ducat] Good, we are pieced again : reputation, signor, is precious. Sec. I know it is. Spa. Old sores would not be rubbed. Sec. For me, never. Spa. The lady guardianess, the mother of the Fancies, is resolved to draw with ye in the wholesome [yoke] of matrimony suddenly. Sec. She writes as much : and, Spadone, when we are married, — Spa. You will to bed, no doubt. Sec. We will revel in such variety of delights, — Spa. Do miracles, and get babies. Sec. Live so sumptuously, — Spa. In feather and old furs. Sec. Feed so deliciously, — Spa. On pap and bull-beef. Sec. Enjoy the sweetness of our years, — Spa. Eighteen and threescore with advantage. Sec. Tumble and wallow in abundance, — Spa. The pure crystal puddle of pleasures. Sec. That all the world should^^ wonder. Spa. A pox on them that envy ye ! Sec. How do the beauties, my dainty knave ? live, wish, think, and dream, sirrah, ha ! Spa. Fumble onewith another on the gambos of ima- gination between their legs ; eat they do and sleep, game, laugh, and lie down, as beauties ought to do ; there's all. " should] Gifford printed "shall." D. 236 THE FANCIES act i. Sec. Commend me to my choicest, and tell her the minute of her appointment shall be waited on ; say to her she shall find me a man at all points. Spa. Why, there's another quarrel, — " man" once more, in spite of my nose ! Enter Nitido. Nit Away, Secco, away ! my lord calls ; he has a loose hair started from his fellows ; a clip of your art is commanded. Sec. I fly, Nitido. — Spadone, remember me. \^Exit. Nit. Trudging between an old moiP'' and a young calf, my nimble intelligencer? What, thou fattenest apace on cai:)on still ? Spa. Yes, crimp ; 'tis a gallant life to be an old lord's pimp-whiskin •}^ but beware of the porter's lodge,^''^ for carrying tales out of the school. Nit. What a terrible sight to a libbed breech is a sow-gelder ! 17 moil'] i.e. mule. — Altered by Gifford to "mule." D. 18 pimp-whiskin .•] Whiskin (a diminutive of wJiiskc, a hand- broom) was used by our old dramatists as a contemptuous term for a low menial of either sex. By the usual progress of such language, the poor harmless word came at length to denote a ready implement of corruption, and to be coupled with the most odious and repulsive epithets. This is the simple history of the expression ; which, it should be noted, is commonly applied, as here, to a domestic or de- pendent. Thus Brome, in The Novella ; " This is ['Tis] the proud brache's whiskc." Again ; "I collect[ed] as much by your young whiskin that brought me hither." City Wit. Again [in The Demoiselle'] ; "Stay, stay [dele second "stay"] ! here she comes, and ihepimp whiskin with her." In all these instances, and in several others which I at first thought of giving from Shirley, the person spoken of is a servant, and is sup- posed by the speaker to be a pander. 19 beware of the porter's lodge, &c.] i.e. of the place where pun- ishment was usually inflicted on refractory servants. See Jonson, vol. vii. p. 434. SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 237 Spa. Not SO terrible as a cross-tree that never grows to a wag-halter page. Nit. Good ! witty rascal, thou'rt a satire, I pro- test, but that the nymphs^" need not fear the evidence of thy mortality : — go, put on a clean bib, and spin amongst the nuns, sing 'em a bawdy song : all the children thou gettest shall be christened in wassail- bowls,^^ and turned into a college of men-midwives. Farewell, nightmare ! Spa. Very, very well : if I die in thy debt for this, crack-rope, let me be buried in a coal-sack. I'll fit ye, ape's-face ! look for't. Nit. \_sings\ A?id still the urchin would, but could not do. Spa. Mark the end on't, and laugh at last. \Exeunt. Scene III. A room in the house of Livio. E7iter RoMANELLO and Castamela. Rom. Tell me you cannot love me. Cast. You importune Too strict a resolution : as a gentleman Of commendable parts and fair deserts In every sweet condition that becomes A hopeful expectation, I do honour Th' example of your youth ; but, sir, our fortunes, Concluded on both sides in narrow bands, -* but that the 7iympks\ i. e. except that, &c. This would have called for no notice, had I not ventured to alter the pointing of the former editions, which deprived the passage of all meaning. Ford plays on the similarity of the words satyr and satire. [Formerly satire was frequently used as equivalent to satirist : see vol. i. p. 71. D.] -1 shall be christened in wassail-bowls,] i. e. in ale or wine instead of water. Nitido is still jesting with the incapacity of Spadone. 238 THE FANCIES act i. Move you to construe gently my forbearance In argument of fit consideration. Rom. Why, Castamela, I have shap'd thy virtues, Even from our childish years, into a dowry Of richer estimation than thy portion Doubled an hundred times can equal : now I clearly find thy current of affection Labours to fall into the gulf of riot,^^ Not the free ocean of a soft content. You'd marry pomp and plenty : 'tis the idol, I must confess, that creatures of the time Bend their devotions to ; but I have fashion'd Thoughts much more excellent of you. Cast. Enjoy Your own prosperity ; I am resolv'd Never by any charge with me to force A poverty upon ye, want of love. 'Tis rarely cherish'd with the love of want.^^ I'll not be your undoing. Rom. Sure, some dotage Of living stately, richly, lend[s] a cunning To eloquence. How is this piece of goodness Chang'd to ambition ! O, you are most miserable In your desires ! the female curse has caught ye. Cast. Fie, fie ! how ill this suits ! 22 Labours to fall into tkcguifo/riot,] The old copy has "guilt," which the whole context shows to be a misprint. 23 want of love. 'Tis rarely cherish'd with the love of want.'] I have adopted the pointing of the old copy, simply because I could not satisfy my- self with any new arrangement. It is not easy to guess at the speaker's meaning ; she appears to consider poverty and '.chint of love as syno- nymous, with a reference, perhaps, to the insinuation of the old pro- verb, that the latter is a necessary consequence of the former. In the next line she seems to say: It (love) is rarely cherished by those who, like Romanello, embrace a voluntary poverty. But this is all con- jecture. The reader must decide whether the play on words has led the poet into this perplexed expression, or whether any part of it has been corrupted at the press. SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 239 Rom. A devil of pride Ranges in airy thoughts to catch a star, Whiles ye grasp mole-hills. Cast. Worse and worse, I vow. Rom. But that some remnant of an honest sense Ebbs a full tide of blood to shame, all women Would prostitute all honour to the luxury Of ease and titles. Cast. Romanello, know You have forgot the nobleness of truth. And fix'd on scandal now. Rom. A dog, a parrot, A monkey, a caroch, a guarded-* lackey, A waiting-woman with her lips seal'd up, Are pretty toys to please my Mistress Wanton ! So is a fiddle too ; 'twill make it dance. Or else be sick and whine. Cast. This is uncivil : I am not, sir, your charge. Rom. My grief you are ; For all my services are lost and ruin'd. Cast. So is my chief opinion of your worthiness. When such distractions tempt ye : you would prove A cruel lord, who dare, being yet a servant, As you profess, to bait my best respects Of duty to your welfare ; 'tis a madness I have not oft observ'd. Possess your freedom, You have no right in me : let this suffice ; I wish your joys much comfort. Enter Livio richly Jiabited. Liv. Sister, look ye, How, by a new creation of my tailor's, 24 guarded^ See note, vol. i. p. 18. D. 240 THE FANCIES ACT i. I've shook-off old mortality ; the rags Of home-spun gentry — prithee, sister, mark it — Are cast by, and I now appear in fashion Unto men, and receiv'd. Observe me, sister ; The consequence concerns you. Cast. True, good brother ; For my well-doing must consist in yours. Liv. Here's Romanello, a fine-temper'd gallant, Of decent carriage, of indifferent means. Considering that his sister, new hoist up From a lost merchant's warehouse to the titles-'^ Of a great lord's bed, may supply his wants ; — Not sunk in his acquaintance, for a scholar Able enough, and one who may subsist Without the help of friends, provided always He fly not upon wedlock without certainty Of an advancement ; else a bachelor May thrive by observation on a little. A single life's no burthen f'^ but to draw In yokes is chargeable, and will require A double maintenance : why, I can live Without a wife, and purchase. Rom. Is't a mystery You've lately found out, livio, or a cunning Conceal'd till now for wonder ? Liv. Pish ! believe it, Endeavours and an active brain are better Than patrimonies left by parents. Prove it. One thrives by cheating ; shallow fools and unthrifts Are game knaves only fly at : then a fellow Presumes on his hair, and that his back can toil For fodder from the city ; — lies : another, ^ titles^ Qy. "title"? D. 25 A single life's no burthen lA^ For "A" the 4to reads "As single life's," &c. SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 241 Reputed valiant, lives by the sword,-^' and takes up Quarrels, or braves them, as the novice likes, To gild his reputation ; — most improbable. A world of desperate undertakings possibly Procures some hungry meals, some tavern-surfeits, Some frippery to hide nakedness, perhaps The scarabling half a ducat-'' now and then To roar and noise it with the tattling hostess For a week's lodging ; these are pretty shifts. Souls bankrupt of their royalty submit to. Give me a man whose practice and experience Conceives not barely the philosopher's stone, But indeed has it ; one whose wit's his Indies : The poor is most ridiculous. J^oai. You're pleasant In new discoveries of fortune : use them With moderation, Livio. Cast. Such wild language Was wont to be a stranger to your custom : However, brother, you are pleas'd to vent it, I hope, for recreation. Liv. Name and honour, What are they? a mere sound without supportance, 2t> another. Reputed valiant, lives by the sword, a. Yes, I know my postures — O monstrous, buts ! [£xif with the Musicians. Mor. [to Sec] Attend within, sweeting. — Your par- dons, gentlemen. — To your recreations, dear virgins. — Page, have a care. M't. My duty, reverend madam. Troy. Livio, away ! — Sweet beauties — Cast. Brother ! Zizi. Suddenly I shall return. — [Aside] Now for a round temptation. [Exeunt severally; Mor. stays Cast. Mor. One gentle word in private with your lady- ship ; I shall not hold you long. Cast. What means this huddle Of flying several ways thus ? who has frighted 'em ? They live not at devotion here or pension : Pray, quit me of distrust. Mor. May't please your goodness, You'll find him even in every point as honourable As flesh and blood can vouch him. Cast. Ha ! him ! whom ? What him ? Mor. He will not press beyond his bounds ; He will but chat and toy, and feel your — Cast. Guard me A powerful Genius ! — Feel — Mor. Your hands to kiss them, Your fair, pure, white hands : what strange business is it? SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 261 These melting twins of ivory, but softer Than down of turtles, shall but feed the appetite — Cast. A rape upon my ears ! Mor. The appetite Of his poor ravish'd eye ; should he swell higher In his desires, and soar upon ambition Of rising in humility by degrees, Perhaps he might crave leave to clap — Cast. Fond woman, In thy grave sinful ! Mor. Clap or pat the dimples Where Love's tomb stands erected on your cheeks. Else, pardon those slight exercises, pretty one; His lordship is as harmless a weak implement As e'er young lady trembled under. Cast. Lordship !— Stead me, my modest anger ! — 'tis belike, then, Religious matron, some great man's prison, Where virgins' honours suffer martyrdom, And you are their tormentor : let's lay down Our ruin'd names to the insulter's mercy ! Let's sport and smile on scandal ! — \Asidc\ Rare cala- mity, What hast thou toil'd me in ! — You nam'd his lordship ; Some gallant youth and fiery ? Mor. No, no, 'deed, la ! A very grave stale bachelor, my dainty one ; There's the conceit : he's none of your hot rovers, Who ruffle at first dash, and so disfigure Your dresses and your sets of blush at once ; He's wise in years, and of a temperate warmth, Mighty in means and power, and withal liberal ; A wanton in his wishes, but else, — farther He cannot — cause — he cannot — Cast. Cannot! prithee 262 THE FANCIES ACT li. Be plainer ; I begin to like thee strangely ; What cannot ? Mor. You urge timely and to purpose : He cannot do, — the truth is truth, — do any thing — As one should say — that's any thing ; put case, — I do but put the case, forsooth, — he find ye. Cast. \_asidc\ My stars, I thank ye for being ignor- ant Of what this old-in-mischief can intend ! — And so we might be merry, bravely merry ? Mor. You hit it — what else ! — [Aside] She is cun- ning. — Look ye, Pray lend your hand, forsooth. Casf. Why, prithee, take it. 3for. You have a delicate moist palm — umph — can ye Relish that tickle there ? Cast And laugh, if need were. Mor. And laugh ! why, now you have it ; wliat hurt, pray. Perceive ye? there's all, all: go to, you want tutoring, Are an apt scholar ; I'll neglect no pains For your instruction. Cast Do not. — But his lordship, Wliat may his lordship be ? Mor. No worse man^* Than Marquis of Sienna, the great master Of this small family ; your brother found him A bounteous benefactor -^^ 'has advanc'd him The gentleman o' th' horse : in a short time He means to visit you himself in person, 1* man] Qy. "a mau" f D. 15 ' your brother /o/end kim A bounteous benefactor ■] P'or "brother" the 4to reads "mas- ter;" an evident misprint, from the compositor's eye being caught by the word immediately above it. SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 263 As kind as loving an old man ! Cast. We'll meet him With a full flame of welcome. Is't the marquis ? No worse ? Mor. No worse, I can assure your ladyship ; The only free maintainer of the Fancies. Cast. Fancies ! how mean ye that ? Mor. The pretty souls Who are companions in the house ; all daughters To honest virtuous parents and right worshipful ; A kind of chaste collapsed ladies. Cast. Chaste too, And yet collapsed ? Mor. Only in their fortunes. Cast. Sure, I must be a Fancy in the number. Mor. A Fancy principal : I hope you'll fashion Your entertainment, when the marquis courts you. As that I may stand blameless. Cast. Free suspicion. My brother's raiser ? Mor. Merely. Cast. My supporter ? Mor. Undoubtedly. Cast. An old man and a lover ? Mor. True, there's the music, the content, the har- mony. Cast. And I myself a Fancy ? Mor. You are pregnant.^*^ Cast. The chance is thrown ; I now am fortune's minion ; I will be bold and resolute. Mor. Blessing on thee ! \Exeunt. IS Yoii are pregnant. 'X i.e. intelligent, shrewd, quick at guessing; in other words, you are fully possessed of the case. 264 THE FANCIES ACT iii. ACT III. Scene I. The street. Enter ROMANELLO. Rom. Prosper me now, my fate ! some better Genius Than such a one as waits on troubled passions Direct my courses to a noble issue ! My thoughts have wander'd in a labyrinth ; But if the clue I have laid hold on fail not, I shall tread-out the toil of these dark paths, In spite of politic reaches. I am punish'd In mine own hopes by her unlucky fortunes Whose fame is ruin'd ; Flavia, my lost sister ! Lost to report by her unworthy husband, Though heighten'd by a greatness, in whose mixtures I hate to claim a part. Enter Nitido. O, welcome, welcome, Dear boy ! thou keep'st time with my expectations As justly as the promise of my bounties Shall reckon with thy service. Nit. I have fashion'd The means of your admittance. Rom. Precious Nitido ! Nit. More, have bethought me of a shape, a quaint one, You may appear in safe and unsuspected. Rom. Thou'rt an ingenious boy. Nit. Beyond all this. Have so contriv'd the feat, that at first sight SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 265 Troylo himself shall court your entertainment, Nay, force you to vouchsafe it, Kom. Thou'st outdone All counsel and all cunning. Nit. True, I have, sir, Fadg'd nimbly in my practices ; but surely There are some certain clogs, some roguish staggers. Some — what shall I call 'em ? — in the business. Rom. Nitido, What, faint now ! dear heart, bear up : — what staggers, What clogs ? let me remove 'em. Nit. Am T honest In this discovery ? Rom. Honest ! pish, is that all ? \Gives him a purse. By this rich purse, and by the twenty ducats Which line it, I will answer for thy honesty Against all Italy, and prove it perfect : Besides, remember I am bound to secrecy ; Thou'It not betray thyself? Nit. All fears are cleafd, then ; But if— Rom. If what ? out with't. Nit. If we're discover'd. You'll answer I am honest still ? Rom. Dost doubt it? Nit. Not much ; I have your purse in pawn for it. Now to the shape.^ You know the wit in Florence Who in the Great Duke's court buffoons his compli- ment According to the change of meats in season At every free lord's table — "^ Now to the shape.'] The quaint dress or disguise which he has just mentioned. For "you know," in this line, "the old copy reads " a tid 'know." [It also reads " wits." D.] 266 THE FANCIES act hi. Rom. Or free meetings In taverns ; there he sits at th' upper end, And eats and prates, he cares not how nor what : The very quack of fashions,- the very he that Wears a stiletto on his chin P^ Nit. You have him. Like such a thing must you appear, and study, Amongst the ladies, in a formal foppery, To vent some curiosity of language Above their apprehensions — or your own, Indeed beyond sense ; you're the more the person. Now amorous, then scurvy, sometimes bawdy ; The same man still, but evermore fantastical, As being the suppositor to laughter -.^ It hath sav'd charge in physic. Rom. When occasion Offers itself, — for, where it does or not,'' I will be bold to take it, — I may turn To some one in the company, and, changing My method, talk of state, and rail against Th' employment of the time, mislike the carriage Of places, and mislike that men of parts,*" Of merit, such as myself am, are not 2 The very quack of fashions,'] So I read : i. e. a loud and boast- ful pretender to eminence in them. The 4to has " The very quaik," of which I can make nothing. I observe that Mr. Nares has placed a quere at this word ; but he does not attempt to explain it. 3 a stiletto on his chin f] One of the many fantastical fashions of wearing the beard : it was sharp and pointed, as its name implies. It frequently occurs in our old writers under the name of spade (lance) or dagger beard, and appears to have been chiefly affected by soldiers and bravoes. * t/ie suppositor to laughter .•] The excitement, the provocative : a medical term. ^ for, where it docs or not,'] So it should be printed [or rather, " whSr." D.] : it is the old abbreviation of ''-whether." s and mislike that men of parts, &c.] Here again we have a repe- tition, from that fruitful source of error, the wandering of the eye to a preceding or following line. It is idle to think of replacing the genuine word ; but if we read '■'complain," we shall not be far, per- haps, from the poet's meaning. SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 267 Thrust into public action : 'twill set-ofif A privilege I challenge from opinion With a more lively current. Nit. On my modesty, You are some kin to him. Signor Prugnuolo !'' Signer Mushrumpo ! Leap but into his antic garb, and trust me You'll fit it to a thought. Rom. The time ? Nit. As suddenly As you can be transform'd : — for the event, 'Tis pregnant. Rom. Yet, my pretty knave, thou hast not Discover'd where fair Castamela lives ; Nor how, nor amongst whom. Nit. Pish ! yet^ more queries ? Till your own eyes inform, be silent ; else Take back your earnest. What, turn woman ? fie ! Be idle and inquisitive ? Rom. No more. I shall be speedily provided : ask for A note at mine own lodging. Nit. I'll not fail ye. \Exit Rom. Assuredly, I will not fail you, signor. My fine inamorato : twenty ducats ! They're half his quarter's income : love, O, love. What a pure madness art thou ! I shall fit him. Fit, quit, and split him too. Enter Troylo. Most bounteous sir ! Troy. Boy, thou art quick and trusty ; 7 Prugnuolo 1^ Here the 4to has "Prugnioli," and towards the conclusion of the play (p. 320), " Pnigniolo's." Gifford printed " Pragnioli." (In \\:sX\z.n prugnuolo means a kind of mushroom). D. ^ yct\ The4tohas "it." D. 268 THE FANCIES ACT ill. Be withal close and silent, and thy pains Shall meet a liberal addition. Nit. Though, sir, I'm but a child, yet you shall find me — Troy. Man In the contrivements ; I will speak for thee. Well, he does relish the disguise ? Nit. Most greedily. Swallows it with a liquorish delight. Will instantly be shap'd in't, instantly. And, on my conscience, sir, the supposition, Strengthen'd by imposition,^ will transform him Into the beast itself he does resemble. Troy. Spend that, and look for more, boy. \Gives Jiim money. Nit. Sir, it needs not : I have already twenty ducats purs'd In a gay case : 'las, sir, to you my service Is but my duty. Troy. Modesty in pages Shows not a virtue, boy, when it exceeds Good manners. Where must we meet ? Nit. Sir, at's lodging, Or near about : he will make haste, believe it. Troy. Wait th' opportunity, and give me notice ; I shall attend. Nit. If I miss my part, hang me ! \Excunt. Scene II. An apartnmit in Julio's hoicsc. Enter Vkspucci and Camillo. Ves. Come, thou art caught, Camillo. Cam. Away, away, " imposition,'] The 4to has "supposition." D. SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 269 That were a jest indeed ; I caught ? Fes. The lady- Does scatter glances, wheels her round and smiles ; Steals an occasion to ask how the minutes Each hour have run in progress ; then thou kissest All thy four fingers, crouchest and sigh'st faintly, " Dear beauty, if my watch keep fair decorum. Three quarters have near pass'd the figure X ;" Or as the time of day goes — Cam. So, Vespucci ! This will not do ; I read it on thy forehead. The grain of thy complexion is quite alter'd ; Once 'twas a comely brown, 'tis now of late A perfect green and yellow ; sure prognosticates Of th' overflux o' th' gall and melancholy, Symptoms of love and jealousy ; poor soul ! Quoth she, ^/le she, "Why hang thy locks like bell- ropes^*' Out of the wheels ?" thou, flinging doAvn thy eyes Low at her feet, repliedst, " Because, O, sovereign, The great bell of my heart is crack'd, and never Can ring in tune again till 't be new-cast by One only skilful founderess !" Hereat She turn'd aside, wink'd, thou stood'st still, and sta- red'st ; I did observe 't : — be plain, what hope ? Fes. She loves thee, Dotes on thee ; in my hearing told her lord Camillo was the Pyramus and Thisbe Of courtship and of compliment : — ah ha ! She nick'd it there ! — I envy not thy fortunes ; For, to say truth, thou'rt handsome and deserv'st her, 1" IV/iy kir//^ f Ay ^ocks like de/I- ropes, &.C.] The 410 has "looks;" to which Gifford (though he obsen'ed that "we might mend the expression, perhaps, by reading ' locks' for ' looks' ") most ridicu- lously adhered. D. 270 THE FANCIES act in. Were she as great again as she is. Cam. I handsome ? Alas, alas, a creature of Heaven's making, There's all ! But, sirrah, prithee, let's be sociable : I do confess, I think the goody-madam May possibly be compass'd ; I resolve, too, To put in for a share, come what can come on't. Ves. A pretty toy 'tis. Since thou'rt open-breasted, Camillo, I presume she is [a] wanton, And therefore mean to give the souse whenever I find the game on wing. Cam. Let us consider — She's but a merchant's leavings. Ves. Hatch'd i' th' country. And fledg'd i' th' city. Cam. 'Tis a common custom 'Mongst friends, — they are not friends else, — chiefly gallants. To trade by turns in suchlike frail commodities :^^ The one is but reversioner to t'other. Ves. Why, 'tis the fashion, man. Cam. Most free and proper ; One surgeon, one apothecary. Ves. Thus, then ; When I am absent, use the gentlest memory Of my endowments, my unblemish'd services To ladies' favours ; with what faith and secrecy I live in her commands, whose special courtesies Oblige me to particular engagements : I'll do as much for thee. 11 in suchlike frail commodities :] It seems almost a pity to take this out of its plain sense ; but as the author has given it in italics, it is but justice to him to say that he means to be witty, and pun on the word frail (an osier basket, in which figs, raisins, &c. were packed), and often applied, as here, to the citizens' wives. Thus, in Eastward Hoe ; "A plague on figs and such /rail com modilics / we shall make nothing of them." SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 271 Cam. With this addition, Camillo, best of fairs, a man so bashful, So simply harmless, and withal so constant, Yet resolute in all true rights of honour ; That to deliver him in perfect character, Were to detract from such a solid virtue As reigns not in another soul ; he is — Ves. The thing a mistress ought to wish her servant. Are we agreed? Cam. Most readily. On t' other side. Unto the lord her husband talk as coarsely Of one another as we can. Ves. I like it ; So shall we sift her love and his opinion. Enter Julio, Flavia, and Fabricio. Jul. Be thankful, fellow, to a noble mistress ; Two hundred ducats are no trifling sum Nor common alms. Flav. You must not loiter lazily, And speak about the town,^^ my friend, in taverns, In gaming-houses ; nor sneak after dinner To public shows, to interludes, in riot, To some lewd painted baggage, trick'd-up gaudily Like one of us : — O, fie upon 'em, giblets ! I have been told they ride in coaches, flaunt it In braveries so rich that it's scarce possible How^^ to distinguish one of these vile naughty packs From true and arrant ladies : they'll inveigle Your substance and your body, — think on that, — 12 And speak about the town, &c.] So the 4to reads ; but this cannot be right, as "gaming-houses" were not much noted in Ford's days for the resort of " idle praters." I suspect that the poet's word was ''lurk." [Qy. "skulk"? D.] 13 How\ Omitted by Gifford : perhaps either "vile" or "naughty" should be thrown out. D. 2 72 THE FANCIES act ill. I say, your body ; look to't. — Is't not sound counsel ? \Turns to Jul. Jul. It is more ; 'tis heavenly. Ves. [aside to Cam?\ What hope, Caraillo, now, if this tune hold? Cam. \_aside to Ves.] Hope fair enough, Vespucci, now as ever; Why, any woman in her husband's presence Can say no less. Fes. [aside to Cam.] 'Tis true, and she hath leave here. Mil/. Madam, your care and charity at once Have so new-moulded my resolves, that henceforth Whene'er my mention falls into report, It shall requite this bounty : I am travelling To a new world. ////• I like your undertakings. Mav. New world ! where's that, I pray ? Good, if you light on A parrot or a monkey that has qualities Of a new fashion, think on me. Mal>. Yes, lady, I, I shall think on you ; and my devotions, Tender'd where they are due in single meekness. With purer flames will mount, with free increase Of plenty, honours, full contents, full blessings, Truth and affection 'twixt your lord and you. So, with my humblest, best leave, I turn from you ; Never, as now I am, t' appear before ye. All joys dwell here, and lasting ! [£xit. Miciv. Prithee, sweetest, Hark in your ear,— beshrew 't, the brim of your hat Struck in mine eye, — [Aside] Dissemble, honest tears. The griefs my heart does labour in, — [it] smarts Unmeasurably. SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 273 Jul. A chance, a chance; 'twill off, Suddenly ofif : forbear ; this handkercher But makes it worse. Cam. Wink, madam, with that eye ; The pain will quickly pass. Ves. Immediately ; I know it by experience. Flav. Yes, I find it. Jul. Spare us a little, gentlemen. \Exeunt Cam. and Ves.] — Speak freely : What wert thou saying, dearest ? Flav. Do you love me ? Answer in sober sadness : I'm your wife now; I know my place and power. Jiil What's this riddle ? Thou hast thyself replied to thine own question, In being married to me ; a sure argument Of more than protestation. Flat'. Such it should be, Were you as other husbands : it is granted, A woman of my state may like good clothes, Choice diet, many servants, change of merriments; All these I do enjoy ; and wherefore not ? Great ladies should command their own delights ; And yet, for all this, I am us'd but homely, — But I am serv'd even well enough. Jul My Flavia, I understand not what thou wouldst. Flav. Pray pardon me ; I do confess I'm foolish, very foolish ; Trust me, indeed I am ; for I could cry Mine eyes out, being in the weeping humour. You know I have a brother. Jul Romanello, An unkind brother. VOL. II. T 274 THE FANCIES act hi. Flav. Right, right ; since you bosom'd My latter youth, he never would vouchsafe As much as to come near me. O, it mads me, Being but two, that we should live at distance. As if I were a castaway ; — and you, For your part, take no care on't, nor attempt^* To draw him hither. Jul. Say the man be peevish, Must I petition him ? Flav. Yea, marry, must ye. Or else you love not me. Not see my brother ! Yes, I will see him ; so I will, will see him ; — You hear 't — O, my good lord, dear, gentle, prithee, — You sha'n't be angry- — 'las, I know, poor gentleman, He bears a troubled mind : but let us meet And talk a little ; we perhaps may chide At first, shed some few tears, and then be quiet ; There's all. Jul. Write to him, and invite him hither. Or go to him thyself. Come, no more sadness ; I'll do what thou canst wish. Flav. And, in requital. Believe I shall say something that may settle A constancy of peace, for which thou'lt^^ thank me. \Exeunt. Scene III. An apartment in the palace. Enter Secco and SpADONE. Sec. The rarest fellow, Spadone ! so full of gam- bols ! — he talks so humorously; does he not? — so carelessly ; O, rich ! O' my hope of posterity, I could be in love with him. Spa. His tongue trolls like a mill-clack; he touses " attempt] The 4to h;is "attempted." D. 15 thou If] Gifford printed "you'll." D. SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 275 the lady-sisters as a tumbling dog does young rabbits ; hey here ! dab there ! your Madonna, — he has a catch at her too : there's a trick in the business, — I am a dunce else, — I say, a shrewd one. Sec. Jump with me ! I smell a trick too, if I could tell what. Spa. Who brought him in ? that would be known. Sec. That did Signor Troylo ; I saw the page part at the door. Some trick still; go to, wife; I must and I will have an eye to this gear. Spa. A plain case ; roguery, brokage and roguery, or call me bulchin. Fancies, quoth 'a ? rather Frenzies. We shall all roar shortly, turn madcaps, lie open to what comes first : I may stand to't, that boy page is a naughty boy page ; — let me feel your forehead : ha ! O, hum, — yes, — there, — there again ! I'm sorry for ye, a handsaw cannot cure ye : monstrous and apparent ! \Feeling his forehead. Sec. What, what, what, what, what, Spadone ? Spa. What, what, what, what ! nothing but velvet tips -^^ you are of the first head yet. Have a good heart, man : a cuckold, though he be a beast, wears invisible horns, else we might know a city-bull from a country-calf : — villanous boy, still ! Sec. My razor shall be my weapon, my razor. Spa. Why, he's not come to the honour of a beard yet ; he needs no shaving. Sec. I ■will trim him and tram him. Spa. Nay, she may do well enough for one. Sec. One ! ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thou- sand; do beyond arithmetic ! Spadone, I speak it with some passion, I am a notorious cuckold. Spa. Gross and ridiculous ! — look ye ; point blank 16 //othiiig but Ye\\'Qi tips ;] Spadone alludes to the down or velvet upon the first sprouting horns of a young deer. 276 THE FANCIES ACT in. I dare not swear that this same mountebanking new- come foist is at least a procurer in the business, if not a pretender himself; — but I think what I think. Sec. He, Troylo, Livio, the page, that hole-creeping page, all horn me, sirrah. I'll forgive thee from my heart ; dost not thou drive a trade too in my bottom ? Spa. A likely matter ! 'las, I'm metamorphosed, I : be patient, you'll mar all else. [Laughing 'withiii\ Ha, ha, ha, ha ! Sec. Now, now, now, now the game's rampant, rampant ! Spa. Leave your wild figaries, and learn to be a tame antic, or I'll observe no longer. [ Wit]wi\ Ha, ha, ha, ha ! Enter Troylo, Castamela, Floria, Clarella, Sil- via, MoROSA, and Romanello disguised as Prug- NUOLO.l'' Sil, You are extremely busy, signor. Flo. Courtly, Without a fellow. Clar. Have a stabbing wit. Cast. But are you always, when you press on ladies Of mild and easy nature, so much satire,^^ So tart and keen as we do taste ye now ? It argues a lean brain. Rom. Gip to your beauties ! You would be fair, forsooth, you would be monsters ; Fair women are such ; — monsters to be seen Are rare, and so are they. Troy. Bear with him, ladies. Mor. He is a foul-mouth'd man. 1^ Pnignuolo\ Sec note, p. 267. D. 18 saiire,] i.e. satirist : see note, vol. i. p. 71, and note in p. 237 of this vol. D. SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 277 Sec. [aside to Mor.] Whore, bitch-fox, treddle !^^ — fa la la la ! Mor. How's that, my cat-a-mountain ? S/>a. Hold her there, boy. C/ar. Were you e'er in love, fine signor ? J^om. Yes, for sport's sake, But soon forgot it ; he that rides a gallop Is quickly weary. I esteem of love As of a man in some huge place ; it puzzles Reason, distracts the freedom of the soul, Renders a wise man fool, and a fool wise — In's own conceit, not else ; it yields effects Of pleasure, travail ; bitter, sweet ; war, peace ; Thorns, roses ; prayers, curses ; longings, surfeits ; Despair, and then a rope. O, my trim lover ! — Yes, I have lov'd a score at once. Spa. Out, stallion ! as I am a man and no man, the baboon lies, I dare swear, abominably. See. Inhumanly. — Keep your bow close, vixen.^" \Pinches Mor. Mor. Beshrew your fingers, if you be in earnest ! You pinch too hard ; go to ; I'll pare your nails for't. Spa. She means your horns ; there's a bob for you ! Clar. Spruce signor, if a man may love so many. Why may not a fair lady have like privilege Of several servants ? Troy. Answer that ; the reason Holds the same weight. Mor. Marry, and so it does. Though he would spit his gall out. 19 treddle!'] That part of the loom on which the foot presses: vulgarly, a common creature, a street-walker. -•* Keep your hov^ close, vixen.'] This is taken from Ancient Pistol's injunction to his disconsolate spouse at parting [in Shakespeare's Henry V. act ii. sc. 3, where the 4tos (not the folio) have " buggle boe." D.] ; and with her it might have been safely left. 278 THE FANCIES ACT ill. Spa. Mark that, Secco. Sil. D'ye pump for a reply ? Rojn. The learned differ In that point ; grand and famous scholars often Have argu'd pro and con, and left it doubtful ; Volumes have been writ on't. If, then, great clerks Suspend their resolutions, 'tis a modesty For me to silence mine. Flo. Dull and phlegmatic ! Clar. Yet women, sure, in such a case are ever More secret than men are. Sil. Yea, and talk less. Rom. That is a truth much fabled, never found. You secret ! when your dresses blab your vanities ? Carnation for your points ?^^ there's a gross babbler ; Tawney ? heigho ! the pretty heart is wounded : A knot of willow-ribbons ? she's forsaken ; Another rides the cock-horse green and azure, Wince and cry " wee-hee !" like a colt unbroken : But desperate black puts 'em in mind of fish-days ; When Lent spurs on devotion, there's a famine : Yet love and judgment may help all this pudder ; Where are they ? not in females. Flo. In all sorts Of men, no doubt. Sil. Else they were sots to choose. Clar. To swear and flatter, sometimes lie, for profit. Rom. Not so, forsooth : should love and judgment meet. The old, the fool, the ugly and deform'd. Could never be belovbd ; for example. Behold these two, this madam and this shaver. Mor. I do defy thee \ am I old or ugly ? Sec. Tricks, knacks, devices ! now it trolls about. 21 points ?] See note, vol. i. p. 292. D. SCENE in. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 279 Rojn. Troll let it, stripling; thou hast yet firm foot- ing, And need'st not fear the cuckold's livery, There's good philosophy for't : take this for comfort ; No horned beasts have teeth in either gums ; But thou art tooth'd on both sides, though she fail in't. Afor. He is not jealous, sirrah. Rom. That's his fortune ; Women, indeed, more jealous are than men, But men have more cause. Spa. There he rubb'd your forehead ; 'Twas a tough blow. Sec. It smarts. Mor. Pox on him ! let him Put's finger-2 into any gums of mine. He shall find I have teeth about me, sound ones. Sec. You are a scurvy fellow, and I am made a cokes, an ass ; and this same filthy crone's a flirt. Whoop, do me 110 hm-m, good woman. -"^ \Exit. Spa. Now, now he's in ! I must not leave him so. \Exit. Troy. Morosa, what means this ? Mor. I know not, I ; He pinch'd me, call'd me names, most filthy names. — \To Rom?^ Will ye part hence, sir? I will set ye pack- ing. \Exit. Clar. You were, indeed, too broad, too violent. Flo. Here's nothing meant but mirth. Sil. The gentleman Hath been a little pleasant. "^ finger\ Gifford printed "fingers." D. 23 Whocp, do mc no harm, good man! is the burthen of an old song ; it is quoted by the clown in Winter s Tale, and is mentioned in several other places. Ritson says that the tune of the old ballad is still preserved in a collection of " Ayres for the Lute and Basse Violl, by W. Corbine, 1610." 28o THE FANCIES act tii. Clar. Somewhat bitter Against our sex. Cast. For which I promise him He ne'er proves choice of mine. Rom. Not I your choice ? Troy. So she protested, sign or. Rom. Indeed ! Clar. Why, you are mov'd, sir. Re-enter Morosa. Mor. Hence ! there enters A civiller companion for fair ladies Than such a sloven. Rom. Beauties, — Troy. Time prevents us ; Love and sweet thoughts accompany this presence. \Excunt Troy, and Rom. Enter Octavio, Secco whispering him, and Livio.^* Oct. \to Sec?^ Enough : slip off, and on your life be secret. \Exit Sec. A lovely day, young creatures ! to you, Floria, To you, Clarella, Silvia, to all, service ! But who is this fair stranger ? Liv. Castamela, My sister, noble lord. Oct. Let ignorance Of what you were plead my neglect of manners. And this soft touch excuse it. You've enrich'd This little family, most excellent virgin, With th' honour of your company. Cast. I find them Worthily graceful, sir. 24 The 4to adds "and Nitido." D. SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 281 Liv. [aside] Are ye so taken ? Oct Here are no public sights nor courtly visitants, Which youth and active blood might stray in thought for ; The companies are few, the pleasures single, And rarely to be brook'd, perhaps, by any Not perfectly acquainted with this custom : Are they not, lovely one ? Zh'. Sir, I dare answer My sister's resolution.^^ Free converse Amongst so many of her sex, so virtuous, She ever hath preferr'd before the surquedry Of protestation, or the vainer giddiness Of popular attendants. Cast [aside] Well play'd, brother ! [Afusie within. Oct. The meaning of this music ? Mor. Please your lordship. It is the ladies' hour for exercise In song and dance. Oct. I dare not be the author Of truanting the time then, neither will I. Mor. Walk on, dear ladies, Oct. 'Tis a task of pleasure. Liv. Be now my sister, stand a trial bravely. Mor. [to Cast.] Remember my instructions, or — [Exit, followed by Livio, Floria, Clarella, and Silvia. Oct. [detaining Casti] With pardon, You are not of the number, I presume, yet. To be enjoin'd to hours. If you please, We for a little while may sit as judges 25 Tl/c j/j-/«r'j resolution.] i.e. her settled, her confirmed opinion. Surquedry, which occurs in the next line, is used by our old writers for excess of pride, presumption, &c. ; from sur and ruider, French, over-conceit. 282 THE FANCIES act hi. Of their proficience ; pray, vouchsafe the favour. Cast. I am, sir, in a place to be commanded, As now the present urgeth. Oct. No compulsion; That were too hard a word ; where you are sovereign, Your yea and nay is law : I have a suit t'ye. Cast. For what, sir ? Oct. For your love. Cast. To whom ? I am not So weary of th' authority I hold Over mine own contents in sleeps and wakings, That I'd resign my liberty to any Who should control it. Oct. Neither I intend so : Grant me an entertainment. Cast. Of what nature ? Oct. T' acknowledge me your creature. Cast. O, my lord, You are too wise in years, too full of counsel, For my green inexperience. Oct. Love, dear maid. Is but desire of beauty, and 'tis proper For beauty to desire to be belov'd. I am not free from passion, though the current Of a more lively heat runs slowly through me ; My heart is gentle; and, believe, fresh girl, Thou shalt not wish for any full addition. Which may adorn thy rarities to boast 'em. That bounty can withhold : this acade'my Of silent pleasures is maintain'd, but only To such a constant use. Cast. You have, belike, then, A patent for concealing virgins ; otherwise. Make plainer your intentions. Oct. To be pleasant SCENE III. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 283 In practice of some outward senses only ; No more. Cast. No worse you dare not to imagine, Where such an awful innocency as mine is Outfaces every wickedness your dotage Has lull'd you in. I scent your cruel mercies ; Your fact'ress hath been tampering for my misery, Your old temptation, your she-devil : — bear with A language which this place, and none but this, hath Infected my tongue with. The time will come, too, When he, unhappy man ! whom your advancement Hath ruin'd by being spaniel to your fortunes, Will curse he train'd me hither, — Livio, — I must not call him brother ; this one act Hath rent him off the ancestry he sprung from. Oct. The proffer of a noble courtesy Is check'd, it seems. Cast. A courtesy ! — a bondage : You are a great man, vicious, much more vicious Because you hold a seeming league with charity. Of pestilent nature, keeping hospitality For sensualists in your own sepulchre, Even by your lifetime, yet are dead already. Oct. How's this ? come, be more mild. Cast. You chide me soberly ; Then, sir, I tune my voice to other music. You are an eminent statist ; be a father To such unfriended virgins as your bounty Hath drawn into a scandal : you are powerful In means ; a bachelor, freed from the jealousies Of wants ; convert this privacy of maintenance Into your own court ; let this, as you call it. Your academy, have a residence there ; And there survey your charity yourself: That when you shall bestow on worthy husbands. 284 THE FANCIES act hi. With fitting portions, such as you know worthy, You may yield to the present age example, And to posterity a glorious chronicle. There were a work of piety : the other is A scorn upon your tombstone ; where the reader Will but expound, that when you liv'd you pander'd Your own purse and your fame. I am too bold, sir ; Some anger and some pity hath directed A wandering trouble. Oct. Be not known what passages The time hath lent ; for once I can bear with ye. Cast. I'll countenance the hazard of suspicion, And be your guest awhile. Oct. Be ; but hereafter — I know not what. — Livio ! Re-enter Livio and Morosa. Liv. My lord ? Cast. Indeed, sir, I cannot part w'ye yet. Oct. Well, then, thou shalt not, My precious Castamela. — Thou hast a sister, A perfect sister, Livio. Mor. \aside\ All is nick'd^® here, Good soul, indeed ! Liv. I'd speak with you anon. Cast. It may be so. Oct. Come, fair one. Liv. O, I'm cheated! \Exeunt. 26 nick'd\ The 4to has "inck'd," — a manifest blunder; which, however, Gifford retained, writing as follows; "So the old copy. If the poet meant to endow this convenient character with any feeling of goodness, this may be an expression of regret at finding, as slie supposed, Castamela giving way to the marquis : should this not be admitted, we might then read 'nick'd,' a transposition of the letters of the former word. This must be allowed to be a very beautiful scene, and Castamela rises considerably in the reader's estimation, yhe docs not fall in that which follows." D. SCENE 1. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 285 ACT IV. Scene I. An apartment in the palace. Enter Livio a7id Castamela. Liv. Prithee, be serious. Cast. Prithee, interrupt not The paradise of my becharming thoughts, Which mount my knowledge to the sphere I move in, Above this useless tattle. Liv. Tattle, sister ! D'ye know to whom you talk this ? Cast. To the Gentleman Of my lord's horse, new-stept into the office ! 'Tis a good place, sir, if you can be thankful. Demean your carriage in it so, that negligence. Or pride of your preferment, oversway not The grace you hold in his esteem ; such fortunes Drop not down every day : observe the favour That rais'd you to this fortune. Liv. Thou mistak'st, sure. What person thou hold'st speech with. Cast. Strange and idle. Liv. Is't possible ? why, you are tum'd a mistress, A mistress of the trim !^ Beshrew me, lady. You keep a stately port ; but it becomes you not. Our father's daughter, if I err not rarely. Delighted in a softer, humbler sweetness, Not in a hey-de-gay of scurvy gallantry : You do not brave it like a thing o' th' fashion, You ape the humour faintly. Cast. " Love, dear maid, 1 A 7nistress 0/ the trim /^ Haughty, insolent, imperious. 286 THE FANCIES act iv. Is but desire of beauty, and 'tis proper For beauty to desire to be belov'd." Liv. Fine sport ! You mind not me ; will you yet hear me, madam ? Cast. " Thou shalt not wish for any full addition, Which may adorn thy rarities to boast 'em, That bounty can withhold." I know I shall not. Liv. And so you clapt the bargain ! the conceit on't Tickles your contemplation ! 'tis come out now : A woman's tongue, I see, some time or other, Will prove her traitor ; this was all I sifted, And here have found thee wretched. Cast. We shall flourish ; Feed high henceforth, man, and no more be straiten'd Within the limits of an empty patience ; Nor tire our feeble eyes with gazing only On greatness, which enjoys the swing of pleasures ; But be ourselves the object of their envy, To whom a service would have seem'd ambition. It was thy cunning, Livio; I applaud it; Fear nothing; I'll be thrifty in thy projects : Want ? misery ? may all such want as think on't ! Our footing shall stand- firm. Liv. You are much witty. ^Vhy, Castamela, this to me ? you counterfeit Most palpably ; I am too well acquainted ^Vith thy condition, sister.^ If the marquis Hath utter'd one unchaste, one wanton syllable, Provoking thy contempt, not all the flatteries Of his assurance to our hopes of rising 2 standi Gifford printed "be." D. * / am too zvcll acquainted With thy condition, sister.'] i.e. natural disposition. We have had this in a former play (The Broketi Heart) ; but as the word has an ambiguous appearance in this place, it seemed not improper to advert to it. SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 287 Can, or shall, slave our souls. Cast. Indeed, not so, sir ; You are beside the point, most gentle signer ! I'll be no more your ward, no longer chamber'd Nor mew'd-up to the lure of your devotion ; Trust me, I must not, will not, dare not ; surely I cannot, for my promise pass'd ; and sufferance Of former trials hath too strongly arm'd me : You may take this for answer. Liv. In such earnest ! Hath goodness left thee quite ? Fool, thou art wan- dering In dangerous fogs, which will corrupt the purity Of every noble virtue dwelt within thee. Come home again, — home, Castamela, sister, Home to thine own simplicity ; and rather Than yield thy memory up to the witchcraft Of an abusbd confidence, be courted For Romanello. Cast. Romanello ! Liv. Scorn'st thou The name? thy thoughts, I find, then, are chang'd, rebels To all that's honest, — that's to truth and honour. Cast. So, sir, and in good time ! Liv. Thou art fall'n suddenly Into a plurisy of faithless impudence ; A whorish itch infects thy blood, a leprosy Of raging lust, and thou art mad to prostitute The glory of thy virgin-dower basely For common sale. This foulness must be purg'd, Or thy disease will rankle to a pestilence, Which can even taint the very air about thee : But I shall study physic. Cast. ' Learn good manners : 2 88 THE FANCIES act iv. I take it, you are saucy. Liv. Saucy ! strumpet In thy desires ! 'tis in my power to cut off The twist thy life is spun by. Cast. Phew ! you rave now : But if you have not perish'd all your reason,-^ Know I will use my freedom. You, forsooth, For change of fresh apparel, and the pocketing Of some well-looking ducats, were contented, Passingly pleas'd — yes, marry were you, mark it — T' expose me to the danger now you rail at ! Brought me, nay, forc'd me hither, without question Of what might follow ; here you find the issue : And I distrust not but it was th' appointment Of some succeeding fate that more concern'd me Than widowed virginity. Liv. You're a gallant; One of my old lord's Fancies. Peevish girl,^ Was't ever heard that youth could dote on sickness, 4 But if yo7t have not perish'd all your reason,^ i.e. destroyed: thus in a former passage ; ' ' to such perfection as no flattery Of art can perish now. " The verb is no longer in use in an active sense. 5 Peevish girl,'] i. e. foolish, captious, or, it may be (as it evidently is in a former passage, p. 274), perverse, asCastamela seems at cross- purposes with her brother. That it bore all these senses in Ford's time cannot be doubted, any more than that the more ancient mean- ing oi peevishness was weakness, imbecility of body or of mind. — It is not a little curious that this unfortunate word {peevish) was mainly operative in effecting the condemnation of Archbishop Laud. He was accused, on the evidence of his memorandum-book (of which his enemies had tyrannically possessed themselves), oi a. treasonable minute to this effect at a council-board, Strafford and Hamilton being present ; "A resolution voted at the board to assist the king in extraordinary ways, if the Parliament should prove peevish, and refuse," &c. There was no proof that Laud had advised that vote ; and he demanded ' ' whether, though the epithet peevish were a very peevish word, he might not write it in his private notes without trea- son?" Now, in what sense was the word used? Laud's accusers seem to have given it the meaning oi 7ia. Scold, coxcomb, baggage, cuckold ! Crabbed a^e and yotdh^^ Cannot Jump together ; One is like good htck, T other likefotil weather. Troy. Let us fall in now. \Comcs forivard with Cast?[ — What uncivil rudeness Dares offer a disturbance to this company ? Peace and delights dwell here, not brawls and outrage. Sirrah, be sure you show some reasons why You so forget your duty; quickly show it. Or I shall tame your choler: what's the ground on't? Spa. \aside\ Hum, how's that? how's that? is he there, with a wannion 1^^ then do I begin to dwindle. — O, O, the fit, the fit ■^'^ thefifs upon me now, now, now, now ! 1" CrahbM age and youth, &c.] This is patched-up from a des- picable ditty in the Passionate Pilgrim, fooHshly attributed to Shake- speare. Spadone seems to have a sort of natural taste for these tuneful parodies. 11 witk a wannion f] A kind of petty imprecation, often used by our old dramatists, and equivalent to the modern \'ulgarism wiffi a vengeance! with a plague ! &c. Mr. Nares wishes to derive it "from the Sa.xon waniing, detriment." In the last edition of Shakespeare it is said to be a corruption oiwin?iowifig: had the editor ever visited the western counties, he w-ould have found a more probable deriva- tion in whang, a lash or thong, which, as well as whanging, is in daily use for a beating. In fact, however, the word comes from neither ; but from wan (vaande, Dutch, a rod or wand) [?], of which wannie and wannion are familiar diminutives. In one of Andrew Borde's humorous prescriptions for the cure of what he calls "the disease of lourdane," or laziness, he recommends "the application of a wan, or stick, of the bigness of a man's finger, to the patient's shoulders." 1- O, O, the fit, the fit, &c.] The burthen of an old song, not worth quoting. It is found also in Shirley. 2^2 THE FANCIES act iv. Set: It shall out. First, then, know all Christian people, Jews and infidels, hes and shes, by these pre- sents, that I am a beast ; see what I say, I say a very beast. Troy. 'Tis granted. Sec. Go to, then; a horned beast, a goodly tall homed beast ; in pure verity, a cuckold : — nay, I will tickle their trangdidos. Mor. Ah, thou base fellow ! wouldst thou confess it an it were so ? but 'tis not so ; and thou Hest and loudly. Troy. Patience, Morosa. — You are, you say, a cuckold ? See. I'll justify my words, I scorn to eat 'em : this sucking ferret hath been wriggling in my old cony- burrow. Mor. The boy, the babe, the infant! I spit at thee. Cast Fie, Secco, fie ! See. Appear, Spadone ! my proofs are pregnant and gross ; truth is the truth ; I must and I will be divorced : speak, Spadone, and exalt thy voice. Sj>a. Who? I speak? alas, I cannot speak, I. JVit As I hope to live to be a man — See. Damn the prick of thy weason-pipe ! — where but two lie in a bed, you must be bodkin, bitch-baby, must ye ? — Spadone, am I cuckold or no cuckold? Sj>a. Why, you know I [am] an ignorant, unable trifle in such business, an oaf, a simple alcatote, an innocent.^'^ See. Nay, nay, nay, no matter for that; this ramkin hath tupped my old rotten carrion-mutton. 13 a simple alcatote, an i)?iiocc/it.'] This is pretty nearly the sense which the word still bears in the north of Devon, where I have fre- quently heard it : to Ford it must have been quite familiar. Totle and alcatotle are both used in the Exmoor Dialogues, as in the text, for silly elf ox foolish oaf. SCENE r. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 293 Mor. Rotten in thy maw, thy guts and garbage ! Sec. Spadone, speak aloud what I am. Spa. I do not know. Sec. What hast thou seen 'em doing together, — doing ? Spa. Nothing. Mor. Are thy mad brains in thy mazer^'^ now, thou jealous bedlam? Sec. Didst not thou, from time to time, tell me as much? Spa. Never. Sec. Hoy-day !^^ ladies and signor, I am abused ; they are agreed to scorn, jeer, and run me out of my wits, by consent. This gelded hobet-a-hoy is a cor- rupted pander, the^*^ page a milk-livered dildo, my wife a whore confest, and I myself a cuckold arrant. Spa. Truly, Secco, for the ancient good woman I dare swear point-blank ; and the boy, surely, I ever said, was to any man's thinking a very chrisome^'' in the thing you wot ; that's my opinion clearly. Clar. What a wise goose-cap hast thou show'd thy- self! Sec. Here in my forehead it sticks, and stick it shall. Law I will have : I will never more tumble in sheets with thee, I will father no misbegotten of thine; the court shall trounce thee, the city cashier thee, dis- eases devour thee, and the Spittle confound thee. \Exit. Cast. The man has dream'd himself into a lunacy. Sil. Alas, poor Nitido ! !■* mazer\ i.e. head. D. 15 Hoy-day! Gifford printed " Hey-fi?(r_j/. " D. 16 the\ Gifford printed "tliis." D. 17 a very chrisome] i.e. an infant, a child within the first month. Thus Fuller, in a pretty passage ; "They say when oy somes" [in- fants, as he e.xplains it) "smile, it is because of some intercourse be- tween them and their guardian angels." 2Q4 THE FANCIES act iv. Nit. Truly, I am innocent. Mor. Marry, art thou ; so thou art. The world says, how virtuously I have carried my good name in every part about me these threescore years and odd ; and at last to slip with a child ! there are men, men enough, tough and lusty, I hope, if one would give their mind to the iniquity of the flesh : but this is the life I ha' led with him a while, since when he lies by me as cold as a dry stone. Troy. This only, ladies, is a fit of novelty ; All will be reconcil'd.— I doubt, Spadone, Here is your hand in this, howe'er denied. Spa. Faithfully, in truth, forsooth, — Troy. Well, well, enough. — Morosa, be less trou- bled; This little jar is argument of love, It will prove lasting. — Beauties, I attend ye. \Excunt all but Spa. and Nit. Spa. Youngling, a word, youngling ; have not you scaped the lash handsomely ? thank me for't. Nit. I fear thy roguery, and I shall find it. Spa. Is't possible? Give me thy little fist; we are friends : have a care henceforth ; remember this whilst you live — And still the urchin would, hut could not dd^^ — pretty knave, and so forth; come, truce on all hands. Nit. Beshrew your fool's head ; this was jest in earnest. \Exeimt. 18 Spadone alludes to liis threat of avenging himself on Nitido, who had twitted him with this scrap : p. 237. SCENE 11. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 295 Scene II. A room in Romanello's house. Enter RoMANELLO. Hojn. I will converse with beasts; there is in man- kind No sound society ; but in woman — bless me ! — Nor faith nor reason : I may justly wonder What trust was in my mother. Etiter Servant. Serv. A caroche, sir, Stands at the gate. Rom. Stand let it still and freeze there ! Make sure the locks. Serv. Too late ; you are prevented. E7iter Flavia, folloived by Camillo and Vespucci, wJio stand apart. Flav. Brother, I come — Rom. Unlook'd for ; — I but sojourn Myself ; I keep nor house nor entertainments, French cooks compos'd,^^ Italian collations ; Rich Persian surfeits, with a train of services Befitting exquisite ladies such as you are. Perfume not our low roofs \ — the way lies open ; That, there. [Points to the door.] Good-day, great ma- dam ! R7av. Why d'ye slight me ? For what one act of mine, even from my childhood, 19 entertainments, French cooks compos' d,] i.e., perhaps, " w/z/V/z French cooks composed :" but the pointing of the 4to is so indistinct, that it is not easy to discern what the author meant to say. Mr. Heber's copy has a full-point after "entertainments;" if that be correct, ''composed" must be a misprint. 2g6 THE FANCIES act iv. Which may deliver my deserts inferior Or to our births or family, is nature Become, in your contempt of me, a monster ? Fc's. [aside to Cam?\ What's this, Camillo ? Cai7i. [aside to Ves.] Not the strain-^ in ordinary. J?om. I'm out of tune to chop discourse f^ how- ever, You are a woman. J^/az'. Pensive and unfortunate, Wanting a brother's bosom to disburthen More griefs than female weakness can keep league with. Let worst of malice, voic'd in loud report, Spit what it dares invent against my actions, And it shall never find a power to blemish My mention other than beseems a patient : I not repine at lowness ; and the fortunes Which I attend on now are, as I value them, No new creation to a looser liberty ; Your strangeness only may beget a change In wild opinion. Cam. [aside to Ves.] Here's another tang Of sense, Vespucci. Ves. [aside to Cam.] Listen, and observe. Jiom. Are not you, pray ye, — nay, we'll be con- tented. In presence of your ushers, once to prattle Some idle minutes, — are you not enthron'd The lady-regent by whose special influence Julio, the Count of Camerine, is order'd ? J^/av. His wife 'tis known I am, and in that title Obedient to a service ; else, of greatness The quiet of my wish was ne'er ambitious. "" siraini Means style of conversation. -^ discourse] The 4to has "discourses." D. SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 297 Rom. He loves you ? Flav. As worthily as dearly. Rom. And 'tis believ'd how practice quickly fa- shion'd A port of humorous anticness in carriage, Discourse, demeanour, gestures. Cam. \aside\ Put home roundly. Ves. [aside] A ward for that blow ? R'/av. _ Safety of mine honour Instructed such deceit. Rom. Your honour ? R/av. Witness This brace of sprightly gallants, whose confederacy Presum'd to plot a siege. Cam. Ves. We, madam ! Rom. On, on ; Some leisure serves us now. R/a7'. Still as Lord Julio Pursu'd his contract with the man — O, pardon, If I forget to name him !■ — by whose poverty Of honest truth I was renounc'd in marriage ; These two, intrusted for a secret courtship, By tokens, letters, message, in their turns Profifer'd their own devotions, as they tenii'd them, Almost unto an impudence, regardless Of him on whose supportance they relied. Rom. Dare not for both your lives to interrupt her. R/az'. Baited thus to vexation, I assum'd A dulness of simplicity ; till afterwards. Lost to my city-freedom, and now enter'd Into this present state of my condition, — Concluding henceforth absolute security From their lascivious villanies, — I continu'd My former custom of ridiculous lightness. 298 THE FANCIES ACT IV. As they did their pursuit ; t' acquaint my lord were T' have ruin'd their best certainty of living : But that might yield suspicion in my nature ; And women-- may be virtuous without mischief To such as tempt them. J^om. You are much to blame, sirs, Should all be truth is utter'd. I^/av. For that justice I did command them hither ; for a privacy In conference 'twixt Flavia and her brother Needed no secretaries such as these are. Now, Romanello, thou art every refuge I fly for right to ; if I be thy sister, And not a bastard, answer their confession. Or threaten vengeance, with perpetual silence. Ca;;L My follies are acknowledg'd ; you're a lady Who have outdone example : when I trespass In aught but duty and respects of service. May hopes of joys forsake me ! Fes. To like penance I join a constant votary. J^om. Peace, then, Is ratified. — My sister, thou hast waken'd Intranc'd affection from its sleep to knowledge Of once more who thou art ; no jealous frenzy Shall hazard a distrust : reign in thy sweetness, Thou only worthy woman ; these two converts Record our hearty union. I have shook-off My thraldom, lady, and have made discoveries Of famous novels f^ — but of those hereafter. Thus we seal love : you shall know all, and wonder, 22 women] The 4to has "woman." D. 23 Of famous novels ;] i. e. novelties. Ford iKCS either of the words indifferently, and as they chance to suit his metre. SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 299 Enter Livio. Liv. Health and his heart's desire to Romanello ! My welcome I bring with me. — Noblest lady, Excuse an ignorance of your fair presence ; This may be held-^ intrusion. Flav. Not by me, sir. Rom. You are not frequent here, as I remember ; But since you bring your welcome with you, Livio, Be bold to use it ; to the point. Liv. This lady, With both these gentlemen, in happy hour May be partakers of the long-liv'd amity Our souls must link in. Rom. So ; belike the marquis Stores some new grace, some special close employment, For whom your kind commends, by cfeputation. Please think on to oblige ; and Livio's charity Descends on Romanello liberally, Above my means to thank ! Liv. Sienna sometimes Has been infonn'd how gladly there did pass A tieaty of chaste loves with Castamela From this good heart ; it was in me an error,- — Wilful and causeless, 'tis confest, — that hinder'd Such honourable prosecution, Even and equal : better thoughts consider How much I wrong'd the gentle course which led ye To vows of true affection, us of friendship. Rom. \aside\ Sits the wind there, boy! — Leaving formal circumstance, Proceed ; you dally yet. Liv. Then, without plea, — 24 held\ The4tohas "bold." D. 300 THE FANCIES act iv. For countenancing what has been injurious On my part, I am come to tender really My sister a lov'd wife t' ye ; freely take her, Right honest man; and as ye live together, May your increase of years prove but one spring, One lasting flourishing youth ! she is your own ; My hands shall perfect what's requir'd to ceremony. Flav. Brother, this day was meant a holiday, For feast on every side. Rom. The new-turn'd courtier Proffers most frankly, but withal leaves out A due consideration of the narrowness Our short estate is bounded in. Some politics, As they rise up, like Livio, to perfection, In their own competencies gather also Grave supplement of providence and wisdom ; Yet he abates in his. — You use a triumph In your advantages ; it smells of state : We know you are no fool. Flav. Sooth, I believe him. Cam. Else 'twere imposture. Ves. Folly rank and senseless. Liv. Enjoin an oath at large. Rom. Since you mean earnest. Receive in satisfaction ; I'm resolv'd For single life. There was a time, — was, Livio, — When indiscretion blinded forecast in me ; But recollection, with your rules of thriftiness, Prevail'd against all passion. Liv. You'd be courted ; Courtship's the child of coyness, Romanello, And for the rules, 'tis possible to name them. Rom. " A single life's no burthen ; but to draw In yokes is chargeable, and doth require A double maintenance :" Livio's very words ; SCENE II. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 301 " For he can live without a wife, and purchase i"^^ By'r lady, so you do, sir; send you joy on't ! These rules, you see, are possible, and answer'd. Liv. Full answer was late made^*^ to this already; My sister's only thine. Rom. Where lives the creature Your pity stoops to pin upon your servant ? Not in a nunnery for a year's probation. Fie on such coldness ! there are Bowers of Fancies Ravish'd from troops of fairy nymphs, and virgins Cull'd from the downy breasts of queens their mothers, In the Titanian empire, far from mortals ; But these are tales : — troth, I have quite abandon'd All loving humour. Liv. Here is scorn in riddles. Rom. Were there another marquis in Sienna More potent than the same who is vicegerent To the Great Duke of Florence, our grand master ; Were the Great Duke himself here, and would lift up My head to fellow-pomp amongst his nobles By falsehood to the honour of a sister. Urging me instrument in his seraglio ; I'd tear the wardrobe of an outside from him, Rather than live a pander to his bribery. Liv. So would the he you talk to, Romanello, Without a noise that's singular.-'' Rom. She's a countess, Flavia, she ; but she has an earl her husband, Though far from our procurement. Liv. Castamela 23 I ' pgy Jif, call live without a wife, and purchase .•"] Romanello retorts the words of Livio (p. 240) ; and the drift of his argument is — ' ' Marriage is expensive ; but if I do not charge myself with a wife, I shall not only be able to live, but to buy an estate." 26 made'] The 4to has "mate." D. 27 Without a noise that's sitigular.l i. e. without making such an extraordinary clamour about it. ^Q2 THE FANCIES ACT iv. Is refus'd, then ? Rom. Never design'd my choice, You know, and I know, Livio ; — more, I tell thee, A noble honesty ought to give allowance When reason intercedes : by all that's manly, I range not in derision, but compassion. Liv. Intelligence flies swiftly, Rom. Pretty swiftly ; We have compar'd the copy with th' original, And find no disagreement. Liv. So my sister Can be no wife for Romanello ? Rom. No, no, One no, once more and ever : — this your courtesy Foil'd me a second.-® — Sir, you brought a welcome ; You must not part without it ; scan with pity My plainness ; I intend nor gall nor quarrel. Liv. Far be't from me to press a blame. — Great lady, I kiss your noble hands ; — and to these gentlemen Present a civil parting. — Romanello, By the next foot-post thou wilt hear some news Of alteration ; if I send, come to me. Rom. Questionless, yea. Liv. My thanks may quit the favour. \Exit. Flav. Brother, his intercourse of conference Appears at once perplex'd, but withal sensible. Rom. Doubts easily resolv'd ; upon your virtues The whole foundation, of my peace is grounded. I'll guard ye to your home ; lost in one comfort, Here I have found another. Flav. Goodness prosper it ! \Exeunt. 28 fkis your courtesy Foil'd me a second.^ I was deceived for an instant by your kindness. SCENE I. CHASTE AND NOBLE. 303 ACT V. Scene I. A?i apartment in the palace. Enter Oct AV\o, Troylo, Secco,