 | The Spanish Curat |  |
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Octavio, Jacintha, Ascanio.Oct.
We cited to the Court!
A Bar. Table-booke, 2 chairs, & paper standish set out.
Ja.
It is my wonder,
Oct.
But not our fear, (Iacintha) wealthy men
That have Estates to loose, whose conscious thoughts
Are full of inward guilt, may shake with horrour,
To have their Actions sifted, or appeare
Before the Judge. But we that know our selves
As innocent, as poore, that have no Fleece
On which the Talons of the griping Law
Can take sure hold, may smile with scorne on all
That can be urg'd against us.
Ia.
I am confident
There is no man so covetous, that desires
To ravish our wants from us, and lesse hope
There can be so much Justice left on earth,
(Though sude and call'd upon) to ease us of
The burthen of our wrongs.
Oct.
What thinkes Ascanio?
Should we be call'd in question or accus'd
Unjustly, what would you doe to redeeme us,
From tirannous oppression?
Asc.
I could pray
To him that ever has an open eare
To heare the innocent, and right their wrongs:
Nay, by my troth, I thinke I could out plead
An Advocate, and sweat as much as he
Do's for a double Fee, ere you should suffer
In an honest cause.
Enter Iamie and Bartolus.
Oct.
Happy simplicitie!
Ia.
My dearest, and my best one: Don Iamie,
Oct.
And the Advocate, that caus'd us to be summond.
Asc.
My Lord is mov'd, I see it in his lookes,
And that man, in the Gowne, in my opinion
Lookes like a proaguing knave.
Iac.
Peace, give them leave.
Iam.
Serve me with Processe?
Bar.
My Lord, you are not lawlesse.
Iam.
Nor thou honest;
One, that not long since was the buckram Scribe,
That would run on mens errands for an Asper,
And from such basenesse, having rais'd a Stock
To bribe the covetous Judge, call'd to the Bar,
So poore in practise too, that you would plead
A needy Clyents Cause, for a starv'd hen,
Or halfe a little loyn of Veale, though fly-blowne,
And these, the greatest Fees you could arrive at
For just proceedings; but since you turn'd Rascall—
Bar.
Goodwords, my Lord.
Iam.
And grew my Brothers Bawd
In all his vitrous courses, soothing him
In his dishonest practises, you are growne
The rich, and eminent knave, in the divels name,
What am I cited for?
Bar.
You shall know anon,
And then too late repent this bitter language,
Or I'll misse of my ends.
Iam.
Wer't not in Court,
I would beat that fat of thine, rais'd by the food
Snatch'd from poore Clyents mouthes, into a jelly:
I would (my man of Law) but I am patient,
And would obey the Judge.
Bar.
'Tis your best course:
Would every enemy I have would beat me,
I would wish no better Action.
Oct.
'Save your Lordship.
Asc.
My humble service.
Iam.
My good Boy, how dost thou?
Why art thou call'd into the Court?
Enter Assistant, Henrique, Officer, and Witnesses.
Asc.
I know not,
But 'tis my Lord the Assistants pleasure
I should attend here.
Iam.
He will soone resolve us.
Offi.
Make way there for the Judge.
Jam.
How? my kind Brother?
Nay then 'tis ranck: there is some villany towards.
Assist.
'Tis Sessions purchas'd at your suit, Don Henrique,
Hath brought us hither, to heare and determine
Of what you can prefer.
Henrique.
I doe beseech
The honourable Court, I may be heard
In my Advocate.
Assist.
'Tis granted.
Bar.
humh, humh.
Jam.
That preface
If left out in a Lawyer, spoyles the Cause,
Though ne're so good, and honest.
Bar.
If I stood here,
To plead in the defence of an ill man,
(Most equall Judge) or to accuse the innocent
(To both which, I professe my selfe a stranger)
It would be requisite I should deck my Language
With Tropes and Figures, and all flourishes
That grace a Rethorician, 'tis confess'd
Adulterate Mettals, need the Gold-smiths Art,
To set 'em off; what, in it selfe is perfect
Contemnes a borrowed glosse: This Lord (my Client)
Whose honest cause, when 'tis related truly,
Will challenge Justice, finding in his conscience
A tender scruple of a fault long since
By him committed, thinkes it not sufficient
To be absolv'd of't, by his Confessor,
If that in open Court, he publish not
What was so long conceal'd.
37
To what tends this?
Bar.
In his young yeares (it is no miracle
That youth, and heat of Blood, should mix together.)
He look'd upon this woman, on whose face
The ruines yet remaine, of excellent forme,
He look'd on her, and lov'd her.
Iac:
You good Angels,
What an impudence is this?
Bar.
And us'd all meanes
Of Service, Courtship, Presents, that might win her
To be at his devotion: but in vaine
Her maiden Fort, impregnable held out
Untill he promis'd Marriage; and before
These Witnesses a solemne Contract pass'd
To take her as his wife.
Assist.
Give them their oath.
Iam.
They are incompetent Witnesses, his own Creatures,
And will sweare any thing for halfe a royall.
Off.
Silence.
Assist.
Proceed.
Bar.
Upon this strong assurance
He did enjoy his wishes to the full,
Which satisfied and then with eyes of Judgement
(Had winck'd with lust before) considering duly
The inequality of the Match, he being
Nobly descended, and allyed, but she
Without a name, or Family, secretly
He purchas'd a Divorce, to disanull
His former Contract, marrying openly
The Lady Violante.
Iac.
As you sit here
The Deputy of the great King, who is
The Substitute of that impartiall Judge
With whom, or Wealth, or titles prevaile nothing,
Grant to a much wrong'd Widow, or a Wife
Your patience, with liberty to speake
In her owne Cause, and let me face to face
To this bad man, deliver what he is:
And if my wrongs, with his ingratitude ballanc'd,
Move not compassion, let me die unpittied;
His teares, his oathes, his perjuries, I passe o're
To thinke of them, is a disease; but death
Should I repeat them. I dare not deny,
(For Innocence cannot justifie what's false)
But all the Advocate hath alleadged concerning
His falshood and my shame in my consent,
To be most true: But now I turne to thee.
To thee Don Henrique, and if impious Acts
Have left thee blood enough to make a blush,
I'll paint it on thy cheekes. Was not the wrong
Sufficient to defeat me of mine honuor,
To leave me full of sorrow, as of want,
The witnesse of thy lust, left in my womb,
To testifie thy falshood, and my shame?
But now so many yeares I had conceal'd
Thy most inhumane wickednesse, and won
This Gentleman, to hide it from the world
To Father what was thine (for yet by heaven,
Though in the City, he pas'd for my husband,
He never knew me as his wife)
Assist.
'Tis strange:
Give him an Oath.
Oct.
I gladly sweare, and truly.
Iac.
After all this (I say) when I had borne
These wrongs, with Saint-like patience, saw another
Freely enjoy, what was (in Justice) mine,
Yet still so tender of thy rest, and quiet,
I never would divulge it, to disturb
Thy peace at home, yet thou most barbarous,
To be so carelesse of me, and my Fame,
(For all respect of thine in the first step
To thy base lust, was lost) in open Court
Chess-boord and men set ready.
To publish my disgrace? and on record,
To write me up an easie-yeilding wanton?
I thinke can find no president: In my extreames,
One comfort yet is left, that though the Law
Divorce me from thy bed, and made free way
To the unjust embraces of an other,
It cannot yet deny that this thy Son
(Looke up Ascanio since it is come out)
Is thy legitimate heire.
Iam.
Confederacie:
A trick (my Lord) to cheat me; e're you give
Your Sentence grant me hearing.
Assist.
New Chymera's?
Iam.
I am (my Lord) since he is without Issue,
Or hope of any his undoubted Heire,
And this forg'd by the Advocate, to defeat me
Of what the Lawes of Spaine, confer upon me,
A meere Imposture, and conspiracie
Against my future fortunes,
Assist.
You are too bold.
Speak to the Cause Don Henrique.
Hen.
I confesse,
(Though the acknowledgement must wound mine honour,
That all the Court hath heard touching this Cause,
Or with me, or against me) is most true:
The later part my Brother urg'd, excepted:
For what I now doe, is not out of Spleene
(As he pretends) but from remorse of conscience)
And to repaire the wrong that I have done
To this poore woman: And I beseech your Lordship
To thinke I have not so far lost my reason,
To bring into my Familie, to succeed me,
The stranger—Issue of anothers Bed,
By proofe, this is my Son, I challenge him,
Accept him, and acknowledge him, and desire
By a definitive Sentence of the Court,
He may be so recorded, and full powre
To me, to take him home.
Iac.
A second rape
To the poore remnant of Content, that's left me,
If this be granted? and all my former wrongs
Were but beginnings to my miseries,
But this the height of all: rather then part
With my Ascanio, I'll deny my oath,
Professe my selfe a Strumpet, and endure
What punishment soe're the Court decrees
Against a wretch that hath forsworne her selfe,
Or plai'd the impudent whore.
Assist.
This tastes of passion,
And that must not divert the course of Justice;
Don Henrique, take your Son, with this Condition
You give him maintenance, as becomes his birth,
And 'twill stand with your honour to doe something
For this wronged woman: I will compell nothing,
But leave it to your will. Break up the Court:
It is in vaine to move me; my doom's pass'd,
And cannot be revok'd.—
Exit.
Hen.
There's your reward.
Bar.
More Causes: and such Fees. Now to my Wife.
I have too long bin absent: Health to your Lordship,
38
You all look strangely, and I feare beleeve
This unexpected fortune makes me proud,
Indeed it do's not: I shall ever pay you
The duty of a son, and honour you
Next to my Father: good my Lord, for yet
I dare not call you, uncle, be not sad,
I never shall forget those noble favours
You did me being a stranger, and if ever
I live to be the master of a fortune,
You shall command it.
Jam.
Since it was determi'nd
I should be cozen'd, I am, glad the profit
Shall fall on thee, I am too tough to melt,
But something I will do.
Hen.
'Pray you take leaue
Of your steward (gentle Brother) the good husband
That takes up all for you.
Jam.
Very well, mock on,
It is your turn: I may have mine—
Exit.
Oct.
But do not
Forget us deare Ascanio
Asc.
Do not feare it.
I Every day will see you: every houre
Remember you in my prayers.
Jam.
My grief's too great
To be expressed in words—
Exit.
Hen.
Take that and leave us,
Leave us without reply, nay come back sirrah
And study to forget such things as these
As are not worth the knowledge.
Asc.
O good Sir.
These are bad principles—
Hen.
Such as you must learn
Now you are mine for wealth and poverty
Can hold no friendship: and what is my will
You must observe and do, though good or ill.
Exeunt.
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