 | The Cunning Lovers |  |
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Enter Mantua, and Montecelso.Man.
All is too good to be true, but tell me,
And answer every word upon thy oath.
Mon.
Upon my oath I will.
Man.
Then tell me, tell me,
Didst thou with all thy best prevailing words,
With all thy art, with all thy eloquence
Urge her to love? speake that upon thy oath.
Mon.
Upon my oath I did entreat her love
With all my art, with all my eloquence.
Man.
And did she grant thy sute?
Mon.
She did my Lord.
Man.
Thou honest man, thrice happy be the houre
That I first met thee; now upon thy life
Tell me how speed'st thou?
Mon.
Well upon my life.
Man.
And will she love?
Mon.
She will.
Thou hast her promise
Mon.
I have my Lord.
Man.
But hast thou, as thou art a Gentleman
Mon.
As I am a Gentleman I have my Lord,
I should be sorry else.
Man.
Did thy word prosper, took thy sute effect?
Will she be wonne to marry at thy motion?
And did she give her hand unto the bargaine.
Mon.
My sute and words were both effectuall,
She's wonne to marry, and I have her hand
As witnesse to the bargaine.
Man.
Friend, sweare that.
Mon.
Upon my life, my Lord, it is most true.
Man.
'Tis well, I thanke my stars.
Mon.
I thanke my stars too.
Man.
I thanke thee too, but for thy industry
This thing had never chanc'd.
Mon.
Nay, that's most certaine,
Had I not took my time and ply'd it throughly,
I had never wonne her heart.
Man.
But thou hast wonne it.
Mon.
I, I thanke heaven my Lord.
Man.
And I thanke heaven my Lord.
Mon.
She hath past her word and her firme promise to me.
Man.
It glads me at the heart, the very heart.
Mon.
Nor have I reason to be sorry for it.
Man.
Once more I thanke thee friend.
Mon.
'Tis not so much worth my Lord.
Man.
That be my perill, Ile 'bide the venture.
Mon.
You are like to do that howsoever.
Man.
There's gold, gramercy friend, I am thy debter;
This is but th'earnest of those rich rewards
Thou shalt receive from me.
Mon.
I thanke your grace,
And I protest I would not for a million
My labours had been fruitlesse, trust upon it,
The greatest aime of all my sute is wonne,
Her heart, her hand, her free consent is wonne
Man.
I thanke my fate 'tis so;
But now about my other businesse friend,
To looke unto my works; blest be the houre
I met thee first, but all is in heavens power.
Exit Mon.
An honest and a faithfull Gentleman
Upon my warrant, and I dare relie
Upon his trust and certaine honesty—
Enter Florence, Ferrara, Iulio.
Flo.
My Lord, you are wrong'd.
Fer.
Disparag'd.
Iul.
And disgrac'd.
Flo.
I bring thee news, thy Castle is surpriz'd,
Fer.
Thy Fort is taken.
Iul.
And your Daughter seiz'd.
Man.
How may that be Lords? 'tis not possible.
Flo.
I speake no more, my Lord, than what I saw.
Fer.
What I beheld.
Iul.
And what these eyes have seen.
Flo.
That stranger Knight, in whom thom most affiest,
I saw in a bay window court thy daughter.
Iul.
Emrbace her in his armes, and claspe her waste.
Fer.
She darting smiles at him, and the other.
Iul.
Nor did they blush, change face, or cease their Courtship,
but stood as at the gaze.
Man.
Iulio, and Lords,
You make me smile; have you so late perus'd
The scituation, and observ'd the passages,
And can you judge wit or the art of man
Can force accesse there and not use my keys?
Tush, you deceive your selves—
Enter Prospero.
Ha, ha, ha, come hither Knight and laugh with me
At their three follies, they would needs perswade me
They saw thee court my Daughter in her Chamber,
Where thou didst publikely discourse thy fill,
And yet these keys here at my girdle still.
Pro.
They did me the more wrong; I scale your Tower!
It lies not in the reach of humans power.
I know it well, tush, while these keys hang here
Were she faire Danas, I not Jove would feare.
Pro.
You Tower is stronger the Aerifius hold,
Besides, I am not Jove to raine down gold.
Flo.
Is't possible my eyes should deceive me!
Fer.
Sure 'twas he, or the devill in's likenesse.
Iul.
There's in this some witchcraft.
Pro.
You might as well say that you see this hand
Reaching as high as unto yonder clouds.
Man.
I should have seen that Ring upon that hand
Once in my Daughters Chamber; oh my heart
Why dost thou make such traffique with pale feare?
Pro.
He hath spy'd the gift, and knows the Ring I weare.
Man.
The same, the same, I will in and see
The issue of my feares, twelve locks, twelve keyes,
And every doore too double-barr'd with Iron,
She in the inmost rome walk'd round about,
It cannot be, and yet the Ring I saw
Urgeth my feares, and forceth me withdraw.
Exit.
Pro.
I know your, drift and must your speed prevent,
But I delay; 'tis high time I were gone,
Twelve dores the Duke must passe, and I but one.
Exit.
Flo.
Shall I not trust my eyes?
Iul.
Though mine should faile me I would witnesse yours.
Fer.
It makes me past my thoughts.
Iul.
There's some strange jugling could we find it out:
In all his acts yon stranger let us trace,
And if we can, worke him some deepe disgrace.
Exeunt.
Enter Valentia above.
Val.
What hast thou done Valentia, given thy heart
Unto a stranger, and thy Fathers foe?
I wrong the Prince, who with a heart intire
Pursues my spousall love with chaste desire;
This match successefully begun may move
Our Fathers hard hearts to a League of love—
Enter Pro.
Pro.
Wonder not Madam at my serious haste,
Your Father on my finger spy'd the Ring,
And knowing it, is gone by the known way,
Harke you may heare the doores.
Oh my sweet friend,
Haste through the hidden way, leave it to me
To excuse it, and retort his jealousie.
Pro.
Adieu sweet Lady,
Harke, harke the last doore.
Val.
Deceit hath eyes behind, seems blind before—
Enter Mantua.
Man.
What so sad Daughter?
Val.
Not sad but solitary.
Man.
I see no private passage, and my dores
Ranke in their wonted order; prethee Daughter
Shew me the Diamond I gave thee last.
Val.
The Ring my Lord?
Man.
I the Ring.
Val.
Why, would your highnesse use it?
Man.
She moves a doubt,
I feare there's guile, and I must find it out.
Val.
This is the Ring you meane.
Man.
I, 'tis the same;
Oh my own Girle, fie my suspitious thoughts
That you should lead me to these jealous feares,
But Rings may be alike; my Deare, farewell,
Thou shalt not long in this close prison dwell.
Exit.
Val.
So Prospero hath promis'd, and Ile rather
Trust him than you, although you be my Father.
Exit.
Enter Iulio and Verona.
Ver.
I have observ'd sir in your troubled looks
Much discontentment, you seeme in your appearance
To be some man of high and eminent place
With the great Mantuan Duke.
Iu.
What's that to thee?
Ver.
Not much sir, yet out of a generous spirit
In Pilgrims bred, such as I am profest,
I would some cordiall counsels willingly
Bestow upon you, did I know your griefes.
Iul.
I have in me a naturall melancholly;
I have long aim'd at greatness, but betweene me
And that high point two strangers stand oppos'd;
Ver.
Sir I can.
Travell hath taught me much, and though now poore,
Yet in my better daies I have convers'd
In Courts of Princes; would you grace me then
But to prefer my service to the Duke,
I would not doubt but to remove those objects
That so offend your eyes; what are those strangers?
Iu.
The one a young Knight that professeth Armes:
The other Architecture, both are frequent
In the Dukes eare and I, that in times past
Had all his bosome and his private thoughts,
Scarce now remember how his Chambers hang,
So seldome's my admittance.
Ver.
Had you so much interest
In his past favours as to make my tongue
Free to his eare I would remove those flatterers,
And plant you in your first deserved grace;
But might I see these Gallants—
Enter Prospero and Montecelso.
Iul.
Here they come;
The one I take to be a Conjurer,
The other his Familiar that he works with,
Ile shew thee reasons for't,
Ver.
Observe them sir.
Mon.
'Tis true my Lord, this night the Dutchess lies in the
Castle with the Lady Valentia, 'tis by the Dukes appointment,
because she may be a comfortable kind Companion to his
Daughter; now this night I have cast it so, that we will be merry
with them till past midnight.
Pro.
But are the Ladies pleas'd it shall be so?
Mon.
The bargain's made and seal'd firme with a kisse,
I set it fast upon the Dutchess lips;
But come let's part till the appointed houre,
We must not be seen too familiar together.
Pro.
Thou art my better Genius, I agree,
I have no good but what I reape from thee.
Mo.
Farewel my Lord, only take heed of eaves-droppers.
Ex.
Did you heare that my Lord?
Iul.
Yes, and it strikes cold unto my heart;
Must they this night meet in Valentia's Tower)
The Devill hath made them picklocks.
Ver.
Patience sir.
Iul.
Bid me be frantique, rather raile and curse; at midnight
must they meet?
And put the Court in uproare, with his Guard
‘Siege round the Tower, and take these Incubus
‘Midst their lascivious pastimes.
Ver.
Heare me sir.
Iul.
I am deafe to counsell, patience, grace and all,
Till in their midnight rapes these strangers fall.
Exit.
Ver.
Oh were I now girt with a potent hoste
Of mine owne people, and my selfe in Armes
Engag'd unto his rescue, I could then
Assure me of my noble Son againe;
But I now feare his fall and ominous end,
Whose help 'bove men to heaven I must commend;
Yet Ile not hence, but note what shall ensue,
Heaven heare my prayers, thou art to just men true.
Exit.
Enter Valentia and Dutchesse above.
Dutch.
Madam, this night devote your selfe to mirth, whilst
your Father sleeps secure in his Palace, Montecelso hath promis'd
to keepe his widdow waking; I assure you Prince Prospero
will be here too instantly.
Val.
He cannot come unlook'd for, nor unwish'd,
So long as their intents are honourable,
So long their welcome is unquestionable.
Dutch.
Troth Madam we have exceedingly forgot our
selves, we should have had a banquet to have entertained
them.
Val.
Methinkes 'tis better as 'tis without, for the time, that
should have been spent in sweet-meats to taste the Pallat, shall
be now spent in sweet discourse to rellish the eare.
Dutch.
Fie, how long they stay, this houre is as long as three
houres; I have observ'd one thing in Lovers houres, the time of
are present is three to one too short.
Val.
And three to one is ods, but you are an old woman.
Dutch.
That makes me long so much for a husband to make
me even; what not yet come, nor yet? if they stay a little longer,
I shall go neare to swoon thrice before they be ready to
enter.
Val.
No entrance if you love me.
Dutch.
Yes at the private doore—
Enter Prospero and Montecelso.
Pro.
Madam.
Mon.
Lady.
Dutch.
Imagine this night to be Saint Valentines day, when
every bird chooseth her mate, for that is the season when they
couple; I am here.
Pro.
And I here.
Val.
And I am glad, my Lord, that you are here; yet I would
be loath, my Lord, have my Father know that you are so.
Pro.
That I am so seated, and you upon my knee.
Val.
Upon my knees I beg that it may never come to his
eare.
Mon.
Come, what shall's do?
Dutch.
Say what you will my Lord, but do nothing I entreat
you.
Mon.
If we should do nothing, of that must necessary come
ill, Ile prove it too; of doing nothing comes Idlenesse, of idlenesse
comes no goodnesse, of no goodnesse necessary comes ill:
therefore if we do nothing, of necessity we must do ill.
Dutch.
How well, my Lord, you can infer ill; but, my Lord,
if you should insist much in this argument, it were more to expresse
your oratory than honesty; but my Lord, I know your
vertues, and the opinion of them hath prepar'd you a most kind
and loving welcome; we have nothing to entertaine you but
words, and we can feast you with nothing but kisses; now you
see your fare, fall to and welcome.
Mon.
Madam, I could everlastingly feed here, and yet presume
never to surfeit, I can but thanke you, and now I have given
thankes, Ile even make bold to fall to.
You say you could find in your heart to offend my father.
Pro.
I madam, so for my offence he would everlastingly confine
me to this prison; why smile you Lady?
Val.
To thinke if my father should steale upon you, and find
you here, what a cunning picklock he would take you for, he
would questionlesse thinke you carried a false key about you.
Pro.
Tush, he hath made a Jury of twelve doores already to
pass upon my cause, and they have all given my case up not
guilty—
Enter Florence Ferrara, Iulio.
Iul.
Where's the Dukes Guard?
Flo.
Begirt the Castle round.
Iul.
Her windows shine with lights like blazing stars.
Fer.
Th'are in her Chamber sure.
Exit.
Pro.
Heard you that Madam?
Val.
We are betray'd.
Mon.
The Castle round beset.
Dutch.
And harke, above I heare the Dukes keys, down the
private way, and leave the excuse to us.
Val.
Nay, when my Lords?
Mon.
This way my Lord, good night.
Dutch.
Nay, stand not now on triviall Complements,
The Duke's at hand.
Pro.
Farewell, Ladies adieu.
Exeunt.
Val.
Nay, if you love us leave us; Madam, how shall we
answer this to the Duke?
Dutch.
Now my apron strings if I had one on, Madam take
your Chaire and counterfeit your selfe fast asleep, so will I, not
a word now if you love me.
Val.
Thy very words are better to me than a Physicall potion,
for they have cast me into a sound sleep already; see I am
fast—
Enter Mantua and Lords.
Man.
Soft, make no noise, the Chamber's whist and still,
There's not so much aire stirring as would make
The trembling Aspen shake; ha, fast asleep?
Search round the Chamber.
Flo.
I find no man here.
Fer.
Here's naught but walls and Arras, and two Ladies
Iul.
Let's wake them my Lord and question them.
Man.
Not for thy head that hast deluded us,
And to this shame and mockery rais'd the Court,
Would I disturbe them of a minutes rest;
Thy envy unto such as we have rais'd
For their desert in Court hath stretch'd it selfe
Even to our high disturbance.
Iul.
Hell and the furies,
Am I againe deluded?
Flo.
Fie Lord Iulio,
To call us in a mockery from our beds!
Fer.
Here to hunt shadows, sure the fellow dreamt.
Flo.
Pray my Lord wake them, and resolve them how
Lord Iulio hath possest you.
Man.
Pardon me,
They both are charm'd in silence, and their senses
Confus'd in innocent dreames; I oft have heard
That what a man or woman waking thinks,
If they be question'd in their depth of rest
Their Genius or their soule will answer for them,
As their affections or their hearts inclin'd;
Of this Ile make a true and prosperous use,
And sound them how their humours are dispos'd,
And to my Daughter first, Lords stand apart,
How sweetly doth my Girle become her rest!
How sound are her suspires! Valentia.
Val.
My Lord.
Man.
She answers me, now art thou happy Mantua,
For thou shalt sound the utmost of her thoughts;
Whom doth my Daughter most affect on earth?
Val.
I love none but my Father.
Man.
Oh mine own girle, and wouldst thou not have a husband?
Val.
Ile live and dye a maid.
Man.
There's no deceit in this, there's no dissembling,
Shee cannot study for evasive shifts,
I thanke heaven I am resolv'd: now Dutchess
What thinks the Dutchess of the Mantuan Duke?
Dutch.
As of a fine grave noble Gentleman.
Man.
Now she speakes her heart, this is plaine dealing;
And couldst thou be content to marry him?
Dutch.
That's my desire.
Man.
And live his noble Dutchess.
Dutch.
I wish no better.
Man.
Mine own;
Most sweetly may you sleep, and nightly dreame
Of these positions, nor for halfe my Dukedome
Would I disturbe their quiet; come let's leave them,
Nay pardon me, Ile see the Chamber cleer'd.
Iul.
Could I be possibly thus mock'd?
Man.
Nay Gentlemen,
Ile be the Porter, see I keep the keyes
Of these two Jewels that I most esteeme;
Iulio, beware hereafter you incur not
Our wrath by these suggestions of untruths;
Come Lords to bed I counsell you the best,
Goodnight my girles, and sweetly may you rest.
Ex.
Dutch.
Are they gone wench?
Val.
I, and so gone that till they have slept soundly, 'tis not
possible to fetch them againe.
Dutch.
Now Endymions fortune upon them, that being once
asleep they may not wake againe this forty yeares.
Val.
Was it not well apprehended of me to say I lov'd none
but my Father?
Dutch.
And was it not as well seconded of me to say in my
sleep I lov'd none but the Duke? Sure it must be in my sleep if
ever I lov'd him, for yet I could never endure him waking; but
what shall's do?
Val.
By my counsell let us even go to bed like loving bedfellows,
and see if we can dreame of them that in time may become
our loving bedfellows.
Dutch.
With all my heart, now the Duke is confident of
our affections, we may be the freer in the entertaining of those
whom we best affect; come, come, let's leave talking of this
Val.
content, and let all men learne thus much from us, that
sleeping or waking 'tis hard to o're-reach a woman.
Exeunt.
Enter Montecelso.
Mon.
Yet all things go currant; if the Ladies were as nimble
in their excuse as we were quick in our passage through the
private doore, I hope neither the Duke nor any of his Court can
any way trace us in our proceedings; some Lovers would think
me a most happy creature to enjoy the love of so beautiful a Lady,
and for ought I know I may be so; but I have made a Vow
never to marry a wife, but first to make some perfect and sound
triall of her affection towards me; but because there is no woman
that loves a man living, but she will infinitely lament him
dead, it shall be thought that I have drown'd my selfe, of which
I will give the Court some assured instance, and afterwards living
hereabouts in some odd disguise, I shall truly understand
how she takes my death; if in any extremity of griefe, I will
revive her with as great a surplusage of joy; but if she take it
coldly, as a business that little concernes her, Ile leave her to the
mercy of him that bids fairest for her; and to my plot, I stay but
for some company that may see me throw my selfe desperately
into the River, heare my passion and report it—
Enter Clowne.
Clo.
My worke and every thing belonging to the Dukes building
being brought to some good pass, I will study how to pass
the time, and for the better recreation of my duller spirits take
a turne or two here by the Rivers side to contemplate of the
beauty of my Mistris; for indeed I am lately falne in love.
Mon.
No fitter man in the world to be the reporter of my
death than this Coxcombe.
Clo.
Upon a morning when I rose to breakfast like a glutton,
I don'd my doublet and my hose, and eate two legs of Mutton;
Her bonny looks forget I not, nor teeth as white as amber,
Her face did shine like pewter-pot belonging to the Chamber;
My lovely Mistris I espi'd as she a milking went a,
But oh me thought at every stride her smock that she had rent a;
Full pale she look'd, for on her head a milk paile was well placed,
Her lips were white, her brows were red, her body was straitelaced;
She went as if she trod on eggs most softly through the mire.
Mon.
Now to my passion.
Clo.
But oh a place besides all these above both knees and thighs a,
Which spring, as she look'd for fleas, did make my stomack rile a.
Mor.
Let Jove threat thunder, or bright Juno scold,
Mars threaten Armes, arm'd in Cyclopian steele,
Ile to my heels clap Boreas brazen wings,
Or mounted on the back of Mercury
With greater terrour scale the Olimpick heaven,
Then when the Giants muster'd here on earth,
And darted mountaine tops at Jupiter.
Clo.
What mad fellow's this? he hath driven me quite out of
my meditations, pray heaven I fall not into his fegaries.
Mon.
But oh my beautious Dutchess, cause of this
My frenzy, lunacy, rage, and despaire,
I love thee dearely; yet because my fervor
Shall no way cross the noble Mantuan Duke,
I am resolv'd to dye.
Clo.
Of all the trades that are I love not this dying, poore
Gentleman, would the Duke knew as much; but if love put a
man into these perplexities, Ile take heed how I meddle with it,
Ile e'ne shake hands with it, and part with it as it came.
Mon.
Whom do I see, the Duke of Mantua's Joy,
She whose bright beauty enamours Jove himselfe,
And makes him from his chrystall throne descend
To 'bide with this faire mortal, thou art she.
Clo.
Not I I assure you, I am a man and no woman, if you
will not beleeve me, I have a warrant about me to shew.
Mon.
Come, thou art she, wilt thou dissemble love?
Clo.
I am not she, looke here I have a beard.
Mon.
'Tis but the perriwig falne from thy temples,
And staies upon thy Chin, thou art my Dutchess;
But stay, Ile place this border right againe,
And set it on thy front where it should stand.
Clo.
Oh sir, Ile bring the Dukes own barber that shall take
I am he that was overseer of the Dukes worke, and not
the faire Dutchess that you take me for, put on your spectacles,
and you will see I am nothing like her.
Mon.
Then she is lost, and I undone withall,
Therefore Ile strip me to the Ivory skin,
And as Leander did lively leape in,
My head beneath yon River I will run,
Neptune spread wide thy armes, for now I come.
Exit running.
Clo.
Oh save the man, save the man, now he flounces, now he
flounders, yet he swims above water like a walnut shell, yet he
sprawles like a naked frog, yet he strives for life, oh save the
man, save the man; but now, now, now he sinkes by degrees,
now he is swallow'd, now he is choak'd, this is my comfort, he
cannot choose but go with a cleane soule to heaven, it will be so
wash'd in the water before he come thither. Againe, againe,
againe; now he lies still upon his back and sloates along with
the tide, and now his soule is in the skies, he doth not offer so
much as to strive against the streame, but swims as gently down
with the tide as may be; but what a foole was he, that knowing
he should go so long a journey by water, and the weather
so could too, would leave his cloaths behind him? Well, Ile
e'ne take up his scatter'd Apparell, carry them to the Court, and
there report what I have heard and seen, the poore Gentleman
is well onward of his journey by this time, they had need provide
him good store of faggots, for hee'l be monstrously wet
when he comes to his Inne.
Exit.
| The Cunning Lovers | |