 | The Fatal Contract, A French Tragedy |  |
Actus Secundus
Scena Prima.
Enter Old Brissac and the Page.Page.
I left her mid'st th'amazed multitude,
Where doubtlesse frighted with the sudden horror
Of the unlook'd for murther of the King,
She has with other beauties of the Court,
Retir'd her self until the morning star.
O. Bris.
'Tis very likely so, yet d'ee hear—
I know not what to say, i'l not to bed,
My thoughts are full of tempests, dismall thinkings;
Where is my Son, why went he not to Court?
Page.
Your Son sir Charles, sir, is not yet in bed,
But why he went not to the Court I know not.
O. Bris.
Perhaps she's safe, then why returns she not?
Why sends she not glad messenges of health?
No, no, she's lost, and I undone forever.
Go to your bed, I will not trouble you,
Go take your rest, yet pray be up betimes,
(Offers to go.
Yet stay and watch with me, she may come home,
She may come home, it's good to wait for her;
Yet now I've thought on't get you hence to bed,
And yet not so, run, run unto the Court,
O Villain how he moves; yet why so fast,
(Offer to
The Courtiers notice I have lost my Daughter,
Whom they will then suspect, and call her fame
Into an ill construction; no no no:
(Enter Charles Brissac & Clovis the Prince disguised.
O sir you'r welcome, where is your sister?
I must have her sirra, and I will; where is
She Charles, where is she?
Cha.
My noble Father.
O. Bris.
Tut tut tut, noble me nobles, nor Father me
No Fathers, where is your sister sirra?
Cha.
My sister?
O. Bris.
Your sister; this cunning shall not carry it;
Where is she? speak.
Cha.
Within sir, is she not? otherwise this Gentleman
Ha's lost his labour, he's come to visit her.
O. Bris.
Hoyday, hoyday, hoyday, to visit her?
Plots, plots, meer fetches to delude me: to visit her?
What at the dead of night, when the whole world
Is sunck in slumber, and our lustie youth
As quiet as the Grave? to visit her?
O most ridiculous, to visit her?
Pray Gentleman consider, does your sister keep
Times so preposterous for visiting?
Makes she a day of night, or ha's been bred
As loose as Lais, to love night Courtings?
Do not distract me; to visit her?
Cha.
Pray sir collect your self; this Gentleman
Even at that horrid point where the King fell—
O. Bris.
I there's more mischief too; God for his mercy
What a world is this!
Cha.
Saw a Ring drop from off my sister singer,
And at his best advantage took it up,
Which he had then deliver'd, but that fright
Which renders men forgetful made him so,
But knowing where she liv'd, (so he protests)
He could not sleep until it were deliver'd.
O. Bris.
Pray let me see the Ring; yes it was hers,
And she would say she'd never part with it
Or have her promise rivited to yours,
Tell me but where she is i'l be content,
For I in losing her have lost my joy.
Cha.
Is she not then within?
O. Bris.
Yes too much; oh no
The house containes her not, she is not here,
Nor is for ought I know at all.
Clov.
O my prophetique soul, then 'tis no idle fear.
O. Bris.
How the Monsiure? what makes he here?
Clov.
There's something whispers me, go not to bed,
Go not to bed till thou hast found her out,
Be'st thou my Genius or what power else
(Suggesting lawful things) I will obey thee.
Still it cryes, sleep not to night; had I tane Opium,
The drowsie Poppie, cold Mandragora,
Or all the sleepie sirrops of the world,
With such a powerful spell thou work'st upon me,
That should I take an everlasting sleep
Thould'st wake my scattered bones, and make them rise
To watch the horror of this fatal night;
Sleep ever waking envie and mistrust,
Yee things which never knew what slumber ment;
Ghosts keep your beds, ye Centinels of night,
Goblings and Specters do not walk your round;
A generall Lethargie seize on this hour,
Whilst I alone the Watchman of the night
Will wake in spite of fate, Argus thine eyes
To find Aphelia and her miseries.
(Exit.
O. Bris.
Pretty in good sadnesse, wondrous pretty;
Is he in earnest?
Cha.
Sure he dissembles not, I little thought [When I did
Let him in, what person grac'd [Our Threshold.
O. Bris.
Ah sirra, what a Girl is this to be out of th'way,
He is in love that's certain; let me remember,
When I was first a lover as he is,
I'd just such wild vagaries in my brain,
Such midnight madnesse; this puling baggage
For this hours absence; go, begone,
Follow his royall person, comfort him,
Tell him my daughter will again be found;
And so good Angels grant we meet with her.
Exe. omnes.
SCEN. II.
Enter Aphelia and the Eunuch with a wax Taper.Aph.
Into what Labyrinth doe you lead me sir?
What by perplexed wayes? I should much fear
Had you not us'd his name, which is to me
A strength 'gainst terror, and himself so good,
Occasion cannot varie, nor the night,
Youth, nor his wild desire, otherwise
A silent sorrow from mine eyes would steal
And tell sad stories for me.
Eu.
You are too tender of your honour Lady,
Too full of aguish trembling, the noble Prince
Is, as December, frosty in desire,
Save what is lawful, he not owns that heat,
Which were you snow would thaw a tear from you.
Aph.
This is the place appointed, pray heavens all things
go well.
Eu.
I will go call him, please you rest your self;
Here lies a book will bear you company
Till I return, which will be presently.
Hither i'l send the King, not that I mean
(Aphelia reads in the book.
To give him leave to cool his burning lust,
For Clovis shall prevent him in the fact;
And thus I shall endear my self to both:
Clovis inrag'd perhaps will kill the King,
Or by the King will perish, if both fall,
Or either, both waies make for me;
The Queen as rootedly does hate her sonnes,
As I her Ladyship, to see this fraie
She must be brought by me, she'l steel them on
To one anothers damage, for her sake
Whilst she will hug and kisse me for the same;
Thus on all sides the Eunuch will play foul,
And as his face is black he'l have his soul.
Alph.
How witty sorrow ha's found out discourse
Fitting a midnight season! here I see
One bath'd in Virgins tears, whose puritie
Might blanch a Blackmore, turn natures stream
(Enter Clotair.
Back on it's self; words pure and of that strain
Might move the Parcæ to be pittiful.
Clot.
Methinks I stand like Tarquin in the night,
When he defil'd the chastity of Rome,
Doubtful of what to do, and like a Thief
(she still reads on.
I take each noise to be an Officer.
She ha's a ravishing feature, and her mind
Is of a purer temper than her body:
Her vertues more than beauty ravish't me,
And I commit even with her piety
A kind of incest with Rellgion;
Though I do know it is a deed of death
Condemn'd to torments in the other world,
Such tempting sweetnesse dwels in every limb,
That I must venter my essentiall parts
For the fruition of a moments lust,
(Exit with a resolve not to do it.
A pleasure dearly bought.
Aphe.
Alack poor maid,
Poor ravisht Philomel, thy lot was ill
To meet that violence in a Brother, which
I in a stranger doubt not; yet methinks
I am too confident, for I feel my heart
Burd'ned with something ominous; these men
Are things of subtil nature, and their oaths
Unconstant like themselves. Clovis may prove unkind,
Alack why not? say he should offer foul,
The evil counsel of a secret place,
And night his friend, might over-tempt his will;
I dare not stand the hazard; guide me light
To some untroden place, where poor I may
(Ent. Clota.
Clot.
I am resolv'd, I will be bold and resolute.
Hail beautious Damsell.
Aphe.
Ha, what man art thou
That hast thy count'nance clouded with thy cloak,
And hid'st thy face from darknesse and the night?
If thy intents deserve a Muffler too,
Withdraw and act them not. What art thou, speak?
And wherefore cam'st thou hither?
Clot.
I came to find one beautiful as thou,
And am a man willing to please a woman.
Aphe.
I understand you not.
Clot.
But I must you, yea and the right way too,
Or my strength shall fail me.
Aphe.
Help, help, help.
Clot.
Peace, none of your loud musick Lady,
If you raise a note, or beat the air with clamor,
You see your death.
Drawes his Dagger.
Aphe.
What violence is this? inhuman sir,
(kneels.
Why do you threaten war, fright my soft peace
With most ungentle steel? what have I done
Dangerous, or am like to do? why do you wrack me thus?
Mine armes are guilty of no crimes, do not torment 'um:
Mine heart and they have been heav'd up together
For mankind that was holy, if in that act
They have not prai'd for you, mend and be good,
The fault is none of their's.
Clot.
Come, do not seem
More holy than you are, I know your heart.
Aphe.
Let your Dagger too; noble sir; strike home,
And sacrifice a soul to chastitie,
As pure as is it self, or innocence.
Clot.
This is not the way,—know you me beauty?
Aph.
The Majestie of France!
(discovers himself.
Clot.
Be not afraid.
Aphe.
I dare not fear, it's treason to suspect
My King can harbour thoughts that tend to ill,
I know you'r godlike good, and have but tri'd
Clot.
Cunning simplicity, thou art deceiv'd,
Thy wit as well as beauty wounds me, and thy tongue
In pleading for thee pleads against thy self;
It is thy virtue moves me, and thy good
Tempts me to acts of evil; wert thou bad,
Or loose in thy desires, I could stand,
And onely gaze, not surfeit on thy beauty;
But as thou art, there's witchcraft in thy face,
I must injoy thee, or not thou thy life.
(Enter Clovis & Charles.
Aphe.
You are my King, and may command my life,
My will to sin you cannot; you may force
Unhallowed deeds upon me, spot my fame,
And make my body suffer, not my mind;
When you have done this unreligious deed,
Conquer'd a poor weak maid, a trembling maid,
What trophie or what triumph will it bring
More than a living scorn upon your name?
The ashes in your Urn shall suffer for't,
Virgins will sow their curses on your Grave,
Time blot your Kingly parentage, and call
Your birth in question; do not think
This deed will lie conceal'd, the faults Kings do
Shine like the fiery Beacons on a hill
For all to see, and seeing tremble at:
It's not a single ill which you commit;
What in the subject is a petty fault,
Monsters your actions, and's a foul offence;
You give your subjects licence to offend,
When you do teach them how.
Clot.
I will indure no longer, come along,
Or by the curious spinstrie of thy head,
Which natures cunnin'st finger twisted out,
I'l drag thee to my couch; tempt not my fury.
Clov.
Hold, hold my heart—can I indure this—
Unhand me Charles and render me my self,
Lest I forget my self on thee.
Char.
Great sir;
Clov.
O that I could forget it, and shake off
Duty at once and Consanguinitie,
(Enter Eunuch.
That like a whirlwind I might rush upon him,
And bear him to destruction. Monster of men,
Thou King of darknesse down unto thy Hell,
I have a Spel wil lay thy honesty,
And this abused goodnesse: Is't not enough
That thou hast wrong'd Crotilda, ravish't a Maid,
A Virgin of that puritie of life
Might saint her here on earth; but thou wilt add
Unto the first a second violence the Gods must not forgive:
Don't arm your face,
Nor wear a count'nance of horror, I can't fear
Bearing a bosome innocent and pure:
Is't even so, then guard thy self. Oh King,
For I am swift as thought that executes.
Char.
Hold, hold, my Lotd forbear.
Eu.
Beat down their swords, what do the Princes mean?
Ring out the larum Bell, call up the Court,
(Ring the Bell.
The Princes here will murder one another.
For shame for shame forbear.
Enter the Queen, the Guard, and Attendants, Landrey at the other door.
Qu.
What means this sudden outcry? oh my Sonnes,
Hold, hold; part 'um good Gentlemen.
Clot.
Brav'd by a subjects hand?
Qu.
Though nature by precedencie of birth
Made thee his King, it therefore follows not
His Murtherer: wherein is our Clotair
Greater than Clovis? the self same blood
That spirits thee, makes him as valiant,
The difference lyes in Anno Domini.
Eu.
Most acurat mischief, most rare Crocadile!
Qu.
I grant thou art his elder, by which law
Thou'rt born his subject, not his equal Clovis:
Know Clotair's thy King, and subjects hands
May not advance against their sovereignes head.
Clota.
Neither shall his without Correction
Upon him slaves.
Qu.
Hold, I command ye hold:
Oh Clotair thou art of a valiant soul,
And wilt thou basely thus beset thy Brother?
Fear argues spirits most degenerate,
And that thou fear'st, th'advantage argues it;
O set not on thy slaves, if he must die,
Let thy sacrifice not butcher him.
Clota.
That argument sounds harsh, does Clotair fear?
Clo.
Sacrifice me? it is not in his power.
Eu.
Exquisite Philter, how it operates!
Qu.
We hope so Clovis; yet thy brother King
Is as an earthly God, his will his law,
His power uncircumscrib'd, unlimited,
Whose Majesty can look a subject dead.
Clo.
How? look me dead? I do not fear his frowns.
Qu.
I grant th'as great a Basiliske as he,
As thou art meerly man; but as thy King
Divinity doth prop him, he stands firm
That builds on that foundation; yet I know
Thy sword's as sharp as his, and where it lights
Imprints as much of fate; thine arm's as strong,
Thy spirit as daring, and thy will as prompt
To any action that may write man, Man.
Clot.
He is your darling, you do wel to praise him;
When I have slain him write his Epitaph.
Clo.
My Epitaph? this Pen of steel shall first
Write on thy heart thine end.
Eu.
Stil, still better.
The venom'd poyson of a womans tongue
Is more sublim'd than Mercurie.
(they fight again.
Char.
Hold, hold.
O dearest Maddam, your maternal breath
Bears a Mandamus in it, and like heaven
Will lay this tempest.
As the wind the Sea,
Which makes it rage the lowder,
Clot.
Where's our guard
That lets a traytor pull me by the berd?
Upon him slaves.
(The Guard fall on him and he falls.
Qu.
O they have slain my Son;
Bloody villain, thy hands have made these holes,
Hell take thee for't.
Clot.
Mother, rise and depart,
For I am bent on mischief.
Qu.
Do thy worst
Thou murderous minded Prince, this blood is mine,
For in some sort I bleed; out Paricide.
Eu.
How cunningly she spits her poyson forth!
I know her soul is light, she's glad he's dead,
And joyes in the opportuntie to curse the killer,
For which she gaines the name of pious mother;
Here's pretty woman-villany and dissimulation.
Aphe.
If they have slain him, wherefore do I live?
O my swoln heart.
Clot.
Remove the Corps, withall
Convey this Syren from our wandring eyes,
And howse her in a Dungeon; let no light
Peep through a cranney on her; mask the day,
Put the all-searching eyes of Phæbus out;
Lest accidentally he gazing here,
Here fix eternally, and so we may
Despair of night as once we did of day:
Bear her to prison; reason not the cause,
A Kings prerogative's above his lawes.
Aphe.
Be mercifull and lead to earth, away,
Since he is gone it is to die to stay.
Exeunt some with the King, others leading Aphelia, and bearing away the Corps.
Manent Eunuch, Queen, Landrey.
Qu.
Now we begin to flourish, this black night
Is onely lighted by our stars, which smile
Upon these actions, and rejoyce to see
Thee our sole favorite so neer a Crown.
Did not I seem a Niobe in passion,
A deluge of salt tears?
Land.
Most true, you wept.
Qu.
As a good Actor in a play would do,
Whose fancy works (as if he waking dreamt)
Too strongly on the Object that it copes with,
Shaping realities from mockeries;
And so the Queen did weep: By this good night
I think I could become the Stage as well
As any she that sels her breath in publique;
Come shall we Act Landrey?
Land.
Act Lady, what?
Qu.
Nothing that's new, old Playes you know are best:
Eunuch is our bed ready?
Eu.
Great Queen it is.
Qu.
Come then my joy to bed, where we will Act
The truth which others doubt, and in that sport
We'l laugh at death which triumphs in the Court.
(Exeunt, Qu. & Lan.
Eu.
Go sleep your last; i'l straight unto the King,
And he shall take them in the very act;
And then to cover my discoverie
I'l set on fire the Queens Bed-chamber,
That so I may disturb them more secure,
And yet the plot not mine; i'l tell the King
Unlesse he present help, his mother burns:
About it then, this is a happie night,
The more it works their woe more's my delight.
(Exit.
| The Fatal Contract, A French Tragedy | |