 | The Hogge hath Lost his Pearle |  |
Actus Quartus.
Enter Albert in the woodes.[Al.]
How full of sweet content had this life beene,
If it had beene embraced but before
My burthenous conscience was so fraught with sinne;
But now my griefes oresway that happinesse:
O that some lecher or accurst betrayer
Of sacred friendship, might but here arriue,
And reade the lines repentant on each tree,
That I haue caru'd t'expresse my misery:
My admonitions now, would sure conuert,
The sinfulst creature; I could tell them now,
How idely vaine those humanes spend their liues,
That daily grieue not for offences past,
But to enioy some wantons company;
Which when obteyn'd, what is it, but a blot,
Which their whole liues repentance scarse can cleere:
I could now tell to friend betraying man,
How blacke sinne is hatefull trechery,
How heauy on their wretched soules t'will sit,
How heauy and affrightfull will their end
Seeme to appeach them, as if then they knew,
The full beginning of their endlesse woe
VVere then appointed; which astonishment
O blest repentance keepe me Albert from!
And suffer not dispaire to ouer-whelme,
And make a ship-wracke of my heauy soule.
Enter Maria like a page.
Whose here, a Page: what blacke disasterous fate
Can be so cruell to his pleasing youth?
Ma.
So now Maria, here thou must forgoe
What nature lent thee to repaire to death;
Famine I thanke thee, I haue found thee kindest,
Thou set'st a period to my misery.
Al.
It is Maria that faire innocent,
Whom my abhorred lust hath brought to this;
Ile goe for sustenance: and O you powers!
If euer true repentance wan acceptance,
O shew it Albert now, and let him saue
His wronged beauty from vntimely graue.
Exit Albert.
Ma.
Sure some thing spake, or els my feebled sence
Hath lost the vse of its due property;
VVhich is more likely, then that in this place,
The voice of humane creature should be heard;
This is farre distant from the pathes of men,
Nothing breaths here but wilde and rauening beasts,
VVith ayry monsters, whose shaddowing wings doe seeme
To taste a vale of death in wicked liuers;
VVhich I liue dreadlesse of, and euery hower
Striue to meete death, who still vnkinde auoids me:
But that now gentle famine doth begin
For to giue end to my calamities.
See, here is caru'd vpon this trees smooth barke,
Lines knit in verse, a chaunce farre vnexpected;
Assist me breath a little to vnfold, what they include.
I that haue writ these lines, am one, whose sinne
The Writing
Is more then grieuous; for know, that I haue beene
Was all compos'd of truth: but I digrest,
And fled, them brats of his deare friendships loue,
Clasping to falshood did a vilane proue,
As thus shall be exprest: my worthy friend
Lou'd a faire beauty, who did condiscend
In dearest affection to his vertuous will
He then a night appointed to fulfill
Hymens blest-rites, and to conuey away
His loues faire person, to which peerelesse pray
I was acquainted made, and when the hower
Of her escape drew on, then lust did power
Inraged appetite through all my veines,
And base desires in me let loose the reines
To my licentious will, and that blacke night
When my friend should haue had his chast delight,
I fain'd his presence, and by her, thought him
Rob'd that faire virgin of her honors Iem:
For which most heynous, crime vpon each tree
I write this story that mens eyes may see,
None but a damn'd one would haue done like me.
Is Albert then become so penitent,
As in these desarts to deplore his facts,
Which his vnfain'd repentance seemes to cleere:
How good man is, when he laments his ill?
VVho would not pardon now that mans misdeeds,
Whose griefes bewaile them thus, could I now liue,
I'de remit thy fault with Carracus:
But death no longer will afford repreeue
Of my aboundant woes: wrong'd Carracus farewell,
Liue, and forgiue thy wrongs, for the repentance
Of him that caus'd them, so deserues from thee;
And since my eyes do witnesse Alberts griefe,
I pardon Albert in my wrongs the chiefe.
Enter Albert like a Hermit.
Alb.
How, pardon me, O sound Angelicall;
But see! shee faints, O heauens now shew your power,
That these distilled waters made in griefe,
Looke vp faire youth, and see a remedy.
Ma.
O who disturbs me, I was hand in hand,
VValking with death vnto the house of rest.
Al.
Let death walke by himselfe, if a want company,
Theres many thousands boy, whose aged yeeres
Haue tane a surfet of earths vanities,
They will goe with him, when he please to call,
To drinke my boy thy pleasing tender youth
Cannot deserue to dye, no, it is for vs,
VVhose yeeres are laden by our often sinnes,
Singing the last part of our blest repentance,
Are fit for death, and none but such as we,
Death ought to claime; for when a snatcheth youth,
It shewes him but a tyrant; but when age,
Then is a iust, and not compos'd of rage.
How fares my lad?
Ma.
Like one imbracing death withall his parts,
Reaching at life but with one little finger;
His minde so firmely knit vnto the first,
That vnto him the latter seemes to be
VVhat may be pointed at, but not possest.
Al.
O but thou shalt possesse it.
If thou didst feare thy death but as I doe,
Thou wouldst take pitty, though not of thy selfe,
Yet of my aged yeeres; trust me my boy,
Tha'st strucke such deepe compassion in my breast,
That all the moisture which prolongs my life,
VVill from my eyes gush forth, if now thou leau'st me.
Ma.
But can we liue here in this desart wood,
If not, ile die, for other places seeme,
Like tortures to my griefes, may I liue here?
Alb.
I, thou shalt liue with me, and I will tell thee
Such strang occurrents of my fore-past life,
That all thy young sprung griefes shall seeme but sparkes
To the great fire of my calamities;
Then ile liue onely with you for to heare,
If any humane woes can be like mine;
I haue read on trees most lamentable stories.
Alb.
Tis true indeed, theres one within these woods
VVhose name is Albert, a man so full of sorrow,
That one each tree he passeth by he carues,
Such dolefull lines for his rash follies past,
That who so reades them, and not drown'd in teares;
Must haue a heart fram'd forth of Addamant.
Ma.
And can you helpe to the sight of him?
Alb.
I when thou wilt, bele often come to me,
And at my Caue sit a whole winters night,
Recounting of his stories, I tell thee boy
Had he offended more then did that man,
VVho stole the fire from heauen, his contrition
VVould appease all the gods, and quite reuert
Their wrath to mercy; but come my pretty boy
VVele to my Caue, and after some repose,
Relate the sequell of each others woes.
Exeunt.
Enter Carracus.
Ca.
What a way haue I come, yet I know not whither,
The ayers so cold this winter season,
I'me sure a foole, would any but an asse
Leaue a warme matted chamber and a bed,
To run thus in the cold, and which is more,
To seeke a woman, a slight thing cald woman,
Creatures, with curious nature fram'd as I suppose,
For rent receauers to her treasury;
And why I thinke so now, Ile giue you instance;
Most men doe know that natures selfe hath made the
Most profitable members, then if so.
By often trading in the common wealth
They needs must be inricht, why very good,
To whom ought beauty then repaie this gaine
VVhich shee by natures gift hath profited;
But vnto nature? why all this I graunt,
VVhy then they shall no more be called woman,
For I will stile them thus, scorning their leaue,
Those that for nature doe much rent receaue.
In woods are Eccho's which will answere men,
To euery question which they do propound: Echo, Echo, Echo.
Ca.
O are you there, haue at ye then ifaith,
Echo canst tell me whether men or women
Are for the most part damb'd?
Echo
most part damb'd.
Ca.
Of both indeed, how true this Echo speakes,
Echo, now tel me if mongst 1000. women,
There be one chaste, or none?
Echo,
none.
Ca.
Why so I thinke, better and better still:
Now further Echo, in a world of men,
Is there one faithfull to his friend, or no?
Echo
no.
Ca.
Thou speak'st most true, for I haue found it so;
Who sayd thou wast a woman Echo lies,
Thou couldst not then answere so much of truth,
Once more good Echo,
Was my Maria false by her owne desire,
Or wast against her will?
Echo
against her wil.
[Ca.]
Troth 't may be so, but canst thou tell,
Whether she be dead or not?
Echo
not.
Ca.
Not dead. Echo not dead.
Then without question she doth surely liue: But I do trouble
thee too much, therfore good speak truth, farewel.
Ec.
farewel.
Ca.
How quick it answers, ô that Councellors
Would thus resolue mens doubts without a fee.
How many country Clyents then might rest
Free from vndooing, no plodding pleader then
Would purchase great possessions with his tongue;
Were I some demy-god, or had that power,
I'de straight make this Echo here a iudge;
Hee'd spend his iudgement in the open court,
As now to me, without being once solicited
In 's priuate chamber, tis not bribes could win
Him to o're-sway mens right, nor could he be
Lead to damnation for a little pelfe;
He would not harbour malice in his heart,
Or enuious hatred, base dispight or grudge,
But be an vpright, iust, and equall Iudge;
Treacherous Albert, who hath rais'd my front.
But I feare this idle prate hath
Made me quite forget my cinque pace.
he daunceth.
Enter Albert.
Alb.
I heard the Eccho answere vnto one,
That by his speech cannot be far remote
From of this ground, and see I haue discried him:
Oh heauens! its Carracus, whose reasons seate
Is now vsurpt by madnes, and distraction;
Which I the author of confusion
Haue planted here, by my accursed deeds.
Ca.
O are you come sir, I was sending the Tauerne-boy for
ye, I haue been practising here, and can do none of my loftie
trickes.
Alb.
Good sir, if any sparke do yet remaine
Of your consumed reason, let me striue.
Ca.
To blow it out, troth I most kindly thank you,
Heres friendship to the life; but father whay-beard,
Why should you thinke me void of reasons fire,
My youthfull dayes being in the height of knowledge?
I must confesse your old yeeres gaines experience;
But that's so much orer-ul'd by dotage,
That what you think experience shall effect,
Short memory destroies, what say you now sir?
Am I mad now, that can answere thus
To all intergatories?
Alb.
But though your words do sauor sir of iudgement,
Yet when they derogate from the due obseruance
Of fitting times, they ought not be respected,
No more, then if a man should tell a tale
Of fained mirth in midst of extreame sorrowes.
Ca.
How did you know my sorrowes sir?
What though I haue lost a wife,
Must I be therefore grieued; am I not happy
To be so freed of a continuall trouble?
Had many a man such fortune as I,
In what a heauen would they thinke themselues?
Which in the angry skies, cal'd womens browes,
Sit euer menacing tempestuous stormes:
But yet I needs must tell you, old December,
My wife was cleere of this; within her browe,
Sh'ad not a wrinkle nor a storming frowne;
But like a smooth well polisht Iuory,
It seem'd so pleasant to the looker on,
She was so kinde, of nature so gentle,
That if sh'ad done a fault shee'd straight go die for't:
Was not she then a rare one?
What weep'st thou aged Nestor?
Take comfort man, Troy was ordain'd by fate
To yeeld to vs, which we will ruinate.
Alb.
Good sir walke with me, but where you see
The shaddowing Elmes, within whose circling round
There is a holy spring about incompast,
By dandling siccamores and violets,
Whose waters cure all humane maladies:
Few drops thereof being sprinkled on your temples,
Reuiues your fading memory, and restores
Your sences lost vnto their perfect being.
Ca.
Is it cleere water sir, and very fresh?
For I am thirsty; giues it a better rellish
Then a cup of dead wine with flies in't?
Alb.
Most pleasant to the taste, pray will you goe.
Ca.
Faster then you I beleeue sir.
Exeunt.
Enter Maria.
Ma.
I am walkt forth from my preseruers caue,
To search about these woods, only to see
The penitent Albert, whose repentant minde
Each tree expresseth: ô that some power diuine
Would hither send my vertuous Carracus;
Not for my owne content, but that he might
See how his distrest friend repents the wrong,
Which his rash folly, most vnfortunate
Acted against him and me, which I forgiue
A hundred times a day, for that more often
How the good Hermit seemes to share his mones,
Which in the day time he deplores 'mongst trees,
And in the night his Caue is fild with sighs;
No other bed doth his weake limbs support
Then the cold earth, no other harmony
To rocke his cares asleepe, but blustering windes,
Or some swift Current, headlong rushing downe
From a high Mountaines top, powring his force
Into the Oceans gulfe, where being swallowed,
Seemes to be waile his fall with hideous words:
No other sustentation to suffice
What Nature claimes, but rawe vnsauowry rootes,
With troubled waters, where vntamed beasts,
Do bathe themselues:
Enter Satyrs, dance & Exeunt.
Ay me! what things are these?
What pretty harmelesse things they seeme to be?
As if delight had no where made abode,
But in their nimble sport.
Enter Albert.
Yonders the courteous Hermit, and with him
Albert it seemes, ô see tis Carracus,
Ioy do not now confound me.
Ca.
Thanks vnto heauens & thee thou holy man,
I haue attain'd what doth adorne mans being,
That pretious Iemme of reason, by which soly,
We are discern'd from rude and brutish beasts,
No other difference being twixt vs and them.
How to repay this more then earthly kindnesse,
Lies not within my power, but in his
That hath indu'd thee with celestiall gifts,
To whom Ile pray, he may bestow on thee
What thou deserv'st, blest immortality.
Alb.
Which vnto you befall, thereof most worthy:
But vertuous sir, what I will now request
From your true generous nature, is, that you would
Be pleas'd to pardon that repentant Wight
Whose sinfull stories vpon you trees barke,
Those wrongs were done.
Ca.
Indeed they were, and to, a deere wife lost;
Yet I forgiue him, as I wish the heauens
May pardon me.
Ma.
So doth Maria to.
she discouers her selfe.
Ca.
Liues my Maria then? what gratious plannet
Gaue thee safe conduct to these desert woods?
Ma.
My late mishap (repented now by all,
And therfore pardon'd) compelled me to fly,
Where I had perished for want of foode,
Had not this courteous man awak't my sence,
In which, deaths selfe had partly interest.
Ca.
Alas Maria! I am so farre indebted
To him already, for the late recouery of
My owne weaknesse, that tis impossible
For vs to attribute sufficient thankes,
For such aboundant good.
Alb.
I rather ought to thanke the heauens Creator,
That he vouchsaf't me such especiall grace,
In dooing so small a good, which could I howerly
Bestowe on all, yet could I not asswage
The swelling rancor of my fore-past crimes.
Ca.
O sir, dispaire not for your course of life
(were your sinnes farre more odious then they be)
Doth moue compassion and pure clemency
In the al-ruling Iudge, whose powerfull mercy
Ore swayes his iustice, and extends it selfe
To all repentant mindes, hee's happier farre
That sinnes, and can repent him of his sinne;
Then the selfe iustifier, who doth surmise
By his owne workes to gaine saluation,
Seeming to reach at heauen and claspe damnation:
You then are happy, and our penitent friend,
To whose wisht presence please you now to bring vs,
That in our gladsome armes we infold
His much esteemed person, and forgiue
The iniuries of his rash follies past.
Then see false Albert prostrate at your feete,
he discouers himselfe.
Desiring Iustice for his haynous ill.
Ca.
Is it you Alberts selfe that hath preserv'd vs?
O blest bewailer of thy misery!
Ma.
And woful'st liuer in calamity.
Ca.
From which, right worthy friend, its now high time
You be releast, come then you shall with vs,
Our first and chiefest welcome my Maria,
We shall receaue at your good fathers house;
Who, as I do remember, in my frenzy
Sent a kinde letter which desired our presence.
Alb.
So please you, vertuous paire, Albert will stay,
And spend the remnant of this weary some life
In these darke woods.
Ca.
Then you neglect the comforts heauen doth send,
To your abode on earth, if you stay here
Your life may end in torture, by the cruelty
Of some wilde rauenous beasts, but if mongst men
When you depart, the faithfull prayers of many
Will much auaile, to crowne your soule with blisse.
Alb.
Lou'd Carracus, I haue found in thy conuerse
Comfort so blest, that nothing now but death,
Shall cause a separation in our being.
Ma.
Which heauen confirme.
Ca.
Thus by the breach of faith, our friendships knit
In stronger bonds of loue.
Alb.
Heauen so continue it.
Exeunt.
| The Hogge hath Lost his Pearle | |