University of Virginia Library

ACTUS QUINTUS.

Enter Horatio's Page With a Theeues Lanthorne.
Page.
Enter Horatio with a light.

He hides himselfe.
Hor.
I cannot rest, my guilt keepes ope mine eyes.
My passion rips my bosome, and my blood
Is turn'd to poysoned water, and so swels,
That my vext soule, endures a thousand hels.
If I chance slumber, then I dreame of Serpents,
Toades, altogether, and such venomous euils,
As hale me from my sleepe like forked Deuils,
Midnight, thou Æthiope, Empresse of black soules,
Thou general Bawde to the whole world, I salute thee,
Wishing thy poison dropt vpon my braine,
For my so rude, so rash, so heedeles murther,
In the ambition & the height of lust,
Not giuing my blood libertie to coole.
To poison such a beautie, O black Fate!
Thus many killd, too soone repent too late.
Soft, stay, this sames the chilly monument,
That huggs her bodie in his marble armes.
Thou gentle soule of my deceased loue;
O, wert but possible to inioy thy voice,
Thy sweet Harmonious voice, I should be blest,
But Eene to dally with thy silables,
O tombe.

Pa.
No tombe but Cesterne fild with teares.

Ho.
O heart!

Pa.
No heart, but sinke of greefe and feares.

Hor.
Countesse, soule shaddow, shadow speak again.

Pa.
Speake agen.

Ho.

What should I speake, my hate, or thy huge
wrongs?

Pa.
Hudge wrongs.

Hor.
Hudge wrongs indeede, but charitable soule,
What ransome shall I pay thee for thy life?

Pa.
Thy life.

Ho.
My life?

Pa.
I, I life.

Ho.
Discourteous ayre,
My blood is frozen with dispaire.

Pag.
Dispaire.

Hor.
Pardon forgiue me, shall I goe?

Pa.
I goe.

Hor.
But shall your hate pursue me, I or no?

Pa.
No.

Hor.
Adieu my greefe and ile go sleepe.

Pa.
Pray God my tongue can my hearts coūsel keep

Pa.

Ha? are you vanisht? let me see, a may be fallen
a sleepe against some pillar, for ile be sworn a talk'd verie
idely, Abiit decessit euasit erupit, I would fain know
that Wag that can put me down for a womans Ghoast
extempore, especially if it were to be performde vnder
a tombe cloath, but heere lay the desperate venter, had
she chaunc'd to haue risen, and spoke before hir qu,
as about this time she must tise, or my sleepie drinke
plaies, the drowsie companion with her.

Enter Horatio againe.

Hart a me, my maister againe, what crosse points are
these? I see I must betake me to my late refuge.

Hor.
It was no Ghoast, subtile opinion,
Working in mans decayed faculties,
Cuts out and shapes illusiue fantasies,
And our weak apprehensions like wax,
Receiue the frome, and presently conuey
Vnto our dull immagination.
And hereupon we ground a thousand lyes,
As that we see Deuils ratling their chaines,
Goastes of dead men, varietie of spirits,
When our owne guiltie conscience is the hell.
and our black thoughts, the Cauerns where they dwel:
Yet sure this was her shadow, for I heare
Her last words sound still dauncing in mine eare.
Then gentle soule, if thou beest yet vnthronde,
Answere one question and no more.

Pa,
No more?

Hor.
May my hearts true repentance satisfie,
My wilfull, murther, your replie.

Pa.
I.

Ho.
Thanks, thousand and thanks, and so farewell.

Po.
Farewell.

Ho.
The bane of murder is dispaire and hell.

Exit.
Pa.

Was euer poore little knaue put to his last
trumps as I am? what shall I do now; my heart goes
pit a pat in my belly like a paire of washing beetles,
should a returne again now, as my hand to a Lobster-pye
a will, all the Fat were in the fier, but harke tis
one a clock, and iust about this minute she should
play the wagtaile and stur.

Count.

What trance was this? where am I?

Pa.

Oh she speaks, Fates and be good girles keepe
my maister away, and let his man haue a little sport
with his mistresse.

Count.

What place is this? am I in heauen or no.

Pa.

No.

Count.

What voice is that? is this place earth?

Pa.

Earth.

Count.

Earth? how came I hither? do I liue again?

Pa.

Liue again.

Count.

What voice is that? a woman or some youth?

Pa.

Youth.

Count.

My feares will murther me, my powers are
frighted.

Pa.
Ahlas poore stirring ghost art ouer sprighted.

Count.
Boy.

Pa.
mestresse.

Count.
Tell mee.

Pa.
all and more anon.
The sleepy drink hath plaid the honest man,

Cou.
What sleepy drink? how came I in this tombe?

Pa.
Ile tell you that in a more priuate roome,
Away Ile tell you a strange wonder,
Then wintes lightning, or Christmas thunder,
Then to my fathers trip and go,
Nimble preuention ont runs woe.

Exeunt.
Enter Ferneze the Duke, Count, Lurdo, Angelo, Horatio and Adam with others atendant.
Du.
No more of mourning brother, we haue laid
Our timelesse sorrowes in a quiet graue,
When men interre their comfort let them weepe:
Not when their crying charme is laide to sleepe.

Lu.
Great Duke mine eyes are not thus great with teares,
For our griefes funerall, but that her shame,
And future scandall will out liue her name,

Du.
Come let mirth kill it, and to your discourse,
Is our sonne growne vnto that height of riot
Your speeches intimate.

Lu.
Your highnest knowes,
I know the law, if I haue wrongd the Prince,
I stand in compas of a præmonire,
And he by writte of ad quod dampuum may,
sue his recouery, I know the law.

Du.
Nay his owne letter partly graunts asmuch,
But note his subtle reason, here a writs,
That of set purpose a laid by himselfe,
And plaid the parte of a wilde prodigall,
Onely to put your loue vnto the test,
On which aduantage to igrese his wealth,
You did indeare him to society,
Of carelesse wantons and light Curtezans,
Made secret vaults and cellers vnder ground.

Lu.
Non tenet in bocardo I demurre,
Do but send out your Iterum summoneas,
Or capias vt legatum to attach,
And bring him viua voce tongue to tongue,
And vi & armis Ile reuenge this wrong.

Du.
Leaue that to triall, here a further writtes,
That by his skill and practize in black Art,
He hath found out and by much toile redeemd,
My daughter from the Turkish seruitude.

Lo.
Redeemde your daughter! an apparent error,
Which you by way of melius inquerendum.
May soone discuse, he ransome home your daughter
As sure as I made cellers vnder ground,
Or playd his pandar.

Du.
How so ere it proue,
I meane to try the vtmost of his wit,
To see how quaintly he can beare himselfe:
But who comes here.

Enter Emilia.
Ad.

Marry my good Lord, this is the greene bur,
that stuck so close to the young Princes sleeue, the
shoemakers cutting knife, that fitted his boots to the
prodigalls last.

Lo.
If I be Compos mentis, this is shee,
Must play your daughters part, my Lord beware,
Worke close cock sure, I se the gin the snare.

Em.
Most reuerend father.

Lo.
Father? now it fits,
Ware an olde Fox, Duke I haue braynes I haue wits.

Du.
Immodest impudent and shameles girle,
Is't not enough thou hast mis-led my sonne,
And wrong his reputation?

Em.

How wrongd him father? I must needs say I
haue playd Will with the wispe with my brother and
haue led him vp and downe the maze of good fellowship,
till I haue made his wit and his wealth both
turne sick but for any other wrong, I appeale to himselfe,
my vncle honest Iulios where is a? and all the rest
of this good Audience, therefore pray good father.

Du.

Out of my sight, thou art no childe of myne,

Em.

Y'are the more beholding to some of your neighbours,
tut mā looke on mee well, here's your nowne
nose, and thick kissing lip vp and downe, and my

mother were liuing, she would neuer busse you more,
till you confest I were your daughter.

Du.
What an audatious naughty pack is this?
Haue her before a Iustice, Adam.

Em.

Do, with all my heart good father, send mee
to a Iustice, for a pretty woman with a smooth tongue
and an Angel's voice, can do much with Iustice in
this golden age, but thus much afore I go, if Iustice
will not prouide me a better father, Ile haue you, or
Ile giue the beadle of the ward a fee to cry, a new father
a new, as they do oysters at Callais.

Exit.
Du.
Brother cre you acquainted with this woman?

Lo.
I must needs say that at my nephews suite,
I gaue her a months lodging and her diet.
But Nuda veritate in bare truth,
& bona fide without circumstance,
Splendeuse Sole the bright Sun nere sawe,
A wench more capable of wit and law,
And how soere she is with bewty grac'd,
I dare engage myne honor she is chast,

Du.
I giue your words good credit, yet tis rare,
to finde a woman wanton, chast and fayre,
But now vnto my sonne, whose powerfull art,
Striues to vngiue his sisters seruitude.

Polimetes in his study.
Pol.
Thanks He eate, thou hast insphearde my hope
In a golde circle, o were my father here,
This fight would of his age bate twenty yeare.

Du.
What sight my sonne.

Po.
Lend mee your watry eye,
That swims in passion for my sisters losse,
And in this booke prospectiue, let it read,
A pleasing lecture.

Du.
I conceiue two shapes.
A ciuill marchant and a bewteous mayd.
Their pace is speedy and my slower eye,
Cannot keepe way with their celerity.

Po.
That maid's my sister, whome on magiques wing,
To this fayre presence, my rich Art shall bring,
Prepare to meete them, for this minutes age,
sends with my charme their airy pilgrimage.

Enter Iulio like a Marchant, and Ioculo like a Lady.
Iu.
Whereare are we now? how strangely were we borne
Vpon the pinions of the fleeting ayre,
And where dismounted? vnto what great Prince
Christian or Pagan longs this mansion.

Io.
Are we in any sociable place?
Or in the Cell of some Magitian,
Who by his skill in hellish exorcismes,
Made vs his thrall?

Du.
I can forbeare no longer,
Welcome thrice wellcome.

Iu.
Welcome?

Io.
Whence?

Iu.
To whome?

Du.
To mee.

Ang.
to vs.

Du.
Thy father.

Lu.
and thy friendes.

Io.
do not beguile vs, O Demetrio?
We are betraid, see the Magtiian,
That by his cunning and strong working charmes,
Brought vs vnknowne.

Du.
Into thy fathers armes,
Welcome Emilia, with this Iuory chayne,
I sphære my hopes and in thy bosome rayne,
These teares of comfort, then embrace thy friends.
Thy Brothers Arte all further difference endes.

Io.
Your Citty.

Du.
Genoa.

Io.
And your reuerend name.

Duk.
Ferneze.

Io.
Father.

Lur.
Yes the verie same,
I doe remember when she went to nurse,
What a curst vixen twa's, but now shee's growne.

Io.

Not past all goodnes, yet I hope sir: but yfaith
Brother wast you that brought vs from Turky a cockhorse?
and your Genoan hackneye be so quick pac'd
you shall haue more of our Custome.

Duke.

Lay by discourse, what Gentleman is that
comes vninuited to our feast of ioy.

Ioc.

Pray welcome him father, hee's a Genoan marchant,
that with much suite ransom'd mee from the
Turke.

Duk.
My hopes redeemer welcome, but proceede
Vnto the doubtfull fortunes of my childe:
Twas tolde me she was stolne from Monta sancta.

Iul.
You helpe my memorie, thence she was stolne,
And for her beautie, chosen Concubine
To the lasciuious Turke, but by much sute,
And meditation of some speciall friends,
I bought her freedome with a thousand markes.

Duk.
Which weele repay with ample interest,
Once more weele bid you welcome, and to set
A smoother glosse vpon our merryment,
There's a quicke Wench that onely liues by wit,
Who vnderstanding I had lost my Daughter,
Borrow'd thy habit, and Vsurpes thy name,
One call her in, now Daughter make thee fit,
To combat and dismount her actiue wit.

Exit. Adam
Lur.
A parlous Girle, her wits a meere Snaphaunce,
Goe's with a fire locke, she strikes fire from stones,
Shee knowes the Law too, a meere murthering peece,
Fight lowe, locke close, shee speakes meere, lightning Neece.

Enter Adam with Emilia.
Em.

How now father, haue you put on your cōsidering
Cap, and bethought you? or shall I proceede and trauerse
my writ of errors?

Lur.

Ha, writ of errors? Law-trickes, words of Art
Demurrs and quillets.

Em.

All not worth a pinne, will you bethinke you
father?

Du.
I haue bethought me, and to let thee see,
The true proportion of thy impudence,
Behold my Daughter, whome thon personat'st.

Em.
How, your Daughter?

Ioc.
Yes minkes, his Daughter.

Lur.
My neece, and I will make it good.

Em.

Prittie yfaith, haue ye any more of these tricks?
I may be out-fac'd of my selfe with a Carde often, but
yfaith Vncle, the best knaue 'ith bunch, nor all the law
in your Budget cannot doo't, & as for you Sisley bumtrinkets,
ile haue about with you at the single Stackado
are you a woman?

Io.
No.

Em.
What then?

Io.
A Maide.

Iu.
If his tongue falter, all our plots bewraide.

Em.
If a true maide, lend a true maide your hand.

Ioc.
Both hand and heart

Em.
The like of me commaund,
Now I coniure thee by the loue
You beare Dianaes silent Groue,
By Cupids bowe, and golden arrow,
Venus Doue, and chirping Sparrow,
By all those vowes, the listning windes,
Heare when Maides vnclaspe their mindes.
By those sweete oathes men vse in bed,
Beseeging of a Maiden head.
I doe coniure you fore these Lords,
To answere truely to my words.

Io.
By these and more, by all the scapes
Of amorous Ioue and Phœbus rapes,
By Louers sweet, and secret meetings,
Hand embracings and lip-greetings,
I promise you before these Lords,
To answere truely to your words.

Em.
Where were you borne?

Ioc.
In Genoa.

Em,
Your name?

Ioc.
Emilia.

Em.
Lye not.

Ioc.
Twere open shame
to lye before so many.

Em.
In what Art were you instructed?

Ioc.
That's not in my part.

Po.
Say musique.

Em.
Quickly.

Io.
I was taught to sing,
Vnto the Lute, and Court each amorous string
With a soft finger.

Em.
Good, how many springs
Liu'd you in Monta Santa?

Ioc.
Zoundes this stings.

Em.
How many?

Iul.
Nine.

Po.
Zoundes ten.

Io.
Ten fops.

Em.
Nay quicke.

Ioc.
Twixt nine and ten.

Duke.
Right, answeare.

Iul.
I'the nick.

Em.
Your age?

Io.
What?

Iul.
Any thing.

Em.
Come, fie, you linger.

Io.
I am iust as old.

Em.
As what?

Io.
my little finger.

Em.
You dally

Iu.
Sixteene.

Po.
Eighteene.

Io.
Eighteene fooles,

Du.

Nay and you prompt weele hisse you forth
the schooles.

Em.
Come your reply, nay quick your certen age,

Io.
I am iust as old as—true Emilaes page.

Du.
A page?

An.
Disguisde?

Ad.
Wrapt in a womans smock?

Io.
Ime in a wood.

Em.
And I can spring a cock,

Iu.
Woodcock of our side:

Em.
And you bill so faire,
Make a cleere glade, Ile single forth a paire.

Po.
Fie her witte scaldes.

Lur.
We shall haue change of weather.

Iul.
Cocks of one hen, come prince, lets hold together.

Em.
I thought we should finde a Counterfeit of you

Io.

Then naile me to your lips with a kisse, and make
me currant paiment.

Du.
What, young Orlando? how dooes Charing-Crosse?
Is Westminster yet friendes with Winchester?

Po.
Zoundes Iulio now.

Jo.
Alas my Lord, it was a meere deuice to—

Iul.
Make your Highnesse merry, when I heard
You were return'd without your wish'd Aduenture.

Du.
Oh Maister Marchant, you aduenturd well,
To cheate your selfe thus of a thousand markes,

Em.
How now my Lord?

Lur.
Nay, ile but see your brest, mine eyes desire,
No lower obiect.

Em.
Go to, reade your errors.

Lur.
I cannot now returne, non est inuenta,
Brother embrace your childe, your second heire,
I found firme witnes in her bosome bare.

Du.
Art thou Emilia?

Em.
Emelia, your Daughter, once a Turkish prisoner

Du.
Receiue a ioyfull blessing rise and say,
What wit or power freed thee.

Em.

Deere father, the manner both of my enlarging
and captiuing ile relate, when more conuenient time
and place shall incite me, but vpon this occasion, pray
giue me leaue to put my brother beside his melācholy

Du.
I prethee do so.

Em.
Why how now Student? grand Magitian,
Puritane, come, you neuer plaide the Wag,
You know not Winefrides hem, not the Counts vault.

Du.
A'mort man? what, can Polymetes daunt?
Hath a not Hyren heere?

Po.
Zoundes all will out, braines—

Du.

Now for a hundred dozen of Larkes to make a
pie of the braines.

Po.
Well, done it was, and out it must.

Du,
Why how now Polymetes in a dumpe?
Wheres your Venetian Marchant and your Sister?

Po.

Who? Emilia? why looke you heere father, doe
you thinke I knew her not? aske the Boy and Iulio, do
you thinke I would haue maintaind her as I did but
onely for affinities sake? what saide I at first Nuncle?
did I not vrge affinities? and you would see me hang'd
say and I did not vrge affinitie?

Em.

And yet you pleaded hard for a nights lodging.

Poly.

Onely to try thy honesty by this Element, aske
my vncle else?

Enter Horatioes Page and whisper with Polimetes.
Em.
Hee's a sweet womanist.

Lur,
No more a that, neece y'are a wag.

Em.
Well said old water Ratt,
But that my brother Coniurer should faile,
In the black Art.—

Lu.
In the black Pudding: pish,
Of all arts else, onely the law is firme.

Em.
And yet that danceth changes euery Terme.

Po.

Well ieston gallants, and vncle, you that make
a pish at the black Art, my books to the peece of Arras,
where Venus and Adonis stood kissing and the
cuckoldly pandar Vulcan watch'd them, and all
your by waies to boot, I raise vp my Aunt your late
wife in the same proportion, habit and gesture, shee
vsually wore in her life time.

Du.

Do that, Ile sweare there's vertue in thy Art.

Po.

And if I do not, say Philosophie is foolery,
Logique legerdemaine, and Coniuring meere conicatching,
as indeed it is.

And now by vertue of this wand,
Each in his circle keepe his stand,
Now Belioll and Astaroth,
Sole commaunders of the North,
By Hecates head, Erinnis snakes,
Stix and all infernall Lakes,
I charge you kneele to Proserpine,
And by her licence all deuine
Dismisse the Countesse from those shades,
Where pleasure springs and neuer fades.
Festina, cito, citius, come
free Tenant of Elizium.

Enter Countesse, she writes a little, throwes downe the paper and departs.
Du.
The Count looks pale.

Ang.
why starts Horatio?

Lu..
What writte the shadow?

Po.
That, these lynes will show,
Horatio, base Horatio poysond me,
I was your sister, right mine iniurie.

Du.
Horatio?

Lu.
Yes, Horatio poisond her
Reuenge it Duke be a true Iusticer.

Du.
Reueng't I wil, degenerous homicide,
What reason led thee to so dam'd a deed?

Hor.
I lou'd her, wood her, my hot loue denide
Changde into hate, I poison'd her, she dyde.

Du.
Sounds this like truth.

Ho.
And if you thinke I lye,
Aske Lurdo, his damb'd tongue will answere I.

Duke.
Had he a hand in't?

Lur.
No, I will demurre.

Ad.
Reuenge it Duke, be a true Iusticer.

Lur.
He gaue the poison.

Hor.
And you laide the plot

Ad.
Knit vp two villaines in one riding knot.

Poly.
What quillet now?

Iul.
At non plus.

Em.
Senceles, mute?
Silence cries guiltie, a lets fal the suite.

Lur., Hor.
Our sentence guiltie,

Du.
Then be this your doome,
You shall be clos'de aliue in her dead tombe.

Ang.
Vrge a reprieue:

Lur.
Our punishment defer,

Du.
No, we must be an vpright Iusticer;
To the execution.

Hor.
Doe, the world shal proue
My heart's as bolde to die as twa's to loue.

Lur.
Birlady so is not mine, ide giue my goods,
For a good habeas Corpus, to remoue me
Into another Countrie.

Du.
Leaue demurrs,
Close them into that graue, that dead mans Inne,
Pitie true vertue should be lodg'd with sinne.

Hor.
Make roome deare Madam, law this leaue doth giue
To die by thee with whome I could not liue,

Lur.
And wronged Countesse though I hated thee,
I come to take my latest sleepe with thee.

Countesse in the Tombe.
Cou.
Kind thou art welcome, and shalt euer haue,
My armes thy winding sheete, my brest thy graue.

Du.
Sister?

Po.
Aunt?

Em.
Madam?

Lur.
My much wronged wife?

Cou.
Iustice great Duke, giue me my husbands life,
Both his and his, if your demaund be why,
See she suruiues for whose death they should die.

Du.
Aliue.

Lur.
Vnblemish't.

Hor.
S'blood I gaue her poison.

Pa.

I could tell your honour a tale in your eare to the
contrarie, I must needes say your wil was good, but my
father being your drug-seller, instead of a deadly poison,
gaue you a sleepie potion, doe you remember the
Eccho at the tomb? though I plaid the knaue with you,
I did like an honest man with her.

Lur.

Thou didst indeede, and ile requite thee well.

Pol.

How now Vncle? what thinke you of Schollership
now?

Lur.
As of the law, good as it may be vsd,
But to my wife.

Duke.
Brother, ile speake your part,
Receiue her, loue, and lodge her in your heart.

Lur.
Nocte dieque.

Hor.
What shall I doe then?

Du.
Iustice shall merce thee, and by our commaund
We banish thee the Court, though not our Land,
Your course is vertuous, let your honour growe
Till age hath cloath'd you in a robe of snow.
Lastly, thy merrit is not triuiall,
That turnd to mirth a Sceane so tragicall.