A Pleasant Comedie, Called The Two Merry Milke-Maids Or, The Best Words Weare The Garland |
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| 3. | Scena Tertia. |
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 | A Pleasant Comedie, Called The Two Merry Milke-Maids |  |
Scena Tertia.
Enter Frederick, Cornelius and Carolus.Cor.
How now Carolus, how do's my Lord?
Caro.
Troth scuruely, as a Lord may do in his case.
Fer.
Why how i'st man.
Caro.
Wicked, wicked, extreme wicked, he cannot say
his Praiers.
Fer.
Why? is he speechlesse.
Cor.
What a Pox is that to the purpose, has he made
his will.
Yes, And in his will he doth will and command
that you two shall be whipt, and that he has bequeathed
you for your legacy.
Cor.
Let him bestow it vpon his friends, we can liue
without it.
Fer.
But prithee sirrah, tell vs the manner of his sicknes
which was wondrous strange and suddaine.
Caro.
Why how shoud I know more then you, I am
none of his Phisician.
Cor.
They say but be it spoken in priuate that a Rat hants
him, is it so? thou canst tell.
Fer.
A Rat, a pox of a Rat, Zbloud I heard otherwise.
Cor.
Well, lets heare what hast thou heard.
Fer.
Marry Sir that the Neopolitan Canker has searcht
into his bones: and he lies buried in vlcers, stincks so that
without perfumes, nobody is able to abide him. But
mum mum, not a word of this I speake, it is amongst fellowes
and friends.
Caro.
Tis well you do so, for otherwise your legacies
wud be bestowd vpon you, a yard or two of whipcord is
no great cost, and the executors wud goe to the charge,
Zbloud what Rascalls are you to vtter this, you are the
inuenters of it.
Fer.
Not I by this hand, I heard mine at my Barbers,
Cor.
And I heard mine at the Apothecaries.
Car.
Why heers the misery of great men, they cannot
scape the slaunders of their slaues looke you yonder goes
one of the Doctors, you were best (to be better satisfied)
inquier of him.
Fer.
Not I, I loue not to be inquisitue.
Enter a Docter.
Doct.
Wher's any of my Lords Gentlemen there.
Heer's a Leash of vs Sir.
Doct.
One of you must instantly take horse, and ride to
Doctor Lopez, and bring him hither with all speede that
may be: his counsell is wanting, and it concernes your
Lords life, therefore make hast, and tell him so to: Tell
him the Duke will else be heere before him; from whom,
if so it happen, he will receiue a check.
Caro.
we shall sir, we shall.
Fer.
The Duke, why is the Duke sent for?
Caro.
Yes, & has sent word he will be heere immediatly.
Fer.
Ber Lady Sir, then tis to be thought the dangers
more then euery Ague brings, & t'will go hard with him.
Caro.
Why make not you more hast then to the doctors?
Fer.
I make more hast, why do's not he or you?
Caro.
I, why I was not bidden.
Fer.
Nor I.
Caro.
Why, nor I, more particular then you.
Fer.
But you must goe that answered.
Caro.
Why you may goe as well as I that answered.
Fer.
By this Aire not I.
Caro.
By this Earth nor I.
Cor.
By this Aire, Earth, Fire and Water too, not I:
zbloud I get no more then you, and why shud I then?
Caro.
This is very well, suppose my Lord for want of this
same Doctor now shall die.
Cor.
Why, what can I helpe it.
Car.
Why you may by fetching him.
Cor.
And so may you.
Caro.
And so may he.
Fer.
And so may you.
Caro.
I care not, nay do as you please.
Fer.
Why, nor I neither.
A Bed thrust out, Enter Lady the old Lord, some other Lady and Aliens.
Cor.
Zfoote he shifts his Rome, Ile not be seene.
Byr Lady Sir nor I.
Ray.
Who went for Lopez?
Car.
Ferdinand my Lord.
Ray.
Is he not come yet?
Car.
No my Lord, nor gone yet I beleeue.
Ray.
Oh, my bloud boyles, as if the Sunne
Had darted all his beames into my intrailes.
Short shot my soule, and like the shaft
Shot by great Hercules, flie till thou break'st,
Or else, strike through the body of the Sun,
And fixe thy selfe in heauen a brighter Starre.
What shall I do? Is there no powre in Physicke?
Swoones are you dumbe, Doctors can you not talke,
Though you do nothing else?
Doct.
Alas my Lord, we know not what to say.
Ray.
Why then you might a said, that you can say,
That you know nothing, but your owne
Priuiledge, to kill vnpunish'd; yet are you apt
When Nature workee her selfe, to assume it yours,
O my torment, when wut thou cease? get you gone,
Impostures as you are, and cousen poeple
That haue faith in you; for I haue found
No Art, but Voice among you.
Car.
Away Phisitians, go; my Lord thinks ye are fooles.
And so do I: Therefore begon, begon.
Ray.
Is not the Duke come yet?
Car.
No my good Lord; but here are the Diuines.
Ray.
They ase verie welcome.
Bishops.
How does your Lordship?
Ray.
Wondrous well satisfied in any point touching
my saluation: onely one burden on my conscience lies,
for the Duke himselfe to take away.
Enter Duke.
The Duke is come.
Ray.
Then all the rest I pray depart the roome.
Duke
How is it man?
Ray.
Cheerefull, wondrous cheerefull, all this whole
day I felt not such a minute.
Duke.
Be comforted good Raymond, me thinkes I see
another age of life yet shine in thee, your eie is quick and
sprightly, death doth not shew himselfe in any part.
Ray.
Your grace is a good comforter, and your sight
blowes vp this sparke of life to such a light which is but
as a twinckling before death.
As in this life and after death you'le stand,
In history to the last houre of Time,
A iust religious Prince to which I know,
In your owne inclination you aspire,
Euen for the Dukedomes peace, O—your pardon:
My breath I find will faile me,—your pardon Duke.
And quickly speake it; or I shall not heare you.
Duke.
What, what shal I pardon? good Raymond speake,
I gather by thy speech thou wouldst vnfold, somthing of
consequence; you must not part thus with me, therefore
good Raymond speake, borrow a little time of death, and
I will pay it back out of my life: deare Raymond donnot
leaue me thus vnsatisfied, for if you doe, Ile follow you to
learne it.
Ray.
O I haue wrong'd you.
Duke
Neuer, neuer good Raymond.
Ray.
By that strong power which raises me I haue,
And lends me breath to vtter it; and this Ladie,
Where is she and the Princesse all of ye,
For when you first began your iealousie,
Vpon a small presumption, I as apt.
The issue of a Prince which Heauen aduert,
So basely bastardize, held vp your thought,
Told you of former and familiar tricks,
In the like nature I had seene betweene them,
Which I protest was then out of my care,
That such a thing might be, rather then any crime,
That euer I knew she was guilty of,
Send for her therefore, and condemne your rash
False suppositions, and pardon mine,
That grew but out of yours, but once being growne,
It spred into more branches then your owne,
Duke
What is thy purpose.
Ray.
Religious as the Churches which is,
To cleare all doubts and present Truth,
In her owne Garments, to protect innocence,
And from her white hand lift her out of slanders,
Duk.
By which you wud inferre my Dutchesse honest
Ray.
By all the best hopes of a dying man,
This being a time not to iest breath away.
There does not liue this daie in Christedome,
A Queene nor anie woman through the world,
More trulie vertuous, and as I speake truth,
So may I faile or find it.
Duke
Whether my ioies are sensuall or immortall,
I cannot say but surely I do feele,
And stand on such a change as if my soule,
Were melted into bloud, or my bloud turnd,
To soule which lights, me vp fresh Tapers,
Whose instructiue beames direct me to the Hart
Of my deare Dutchesse, where chastity I find,
Hath built her temple—within there.
Enter Dutchesse.
My Lord.
Duke.
Here, take my Signet, deliuer it to
Lord Lodwicke, command him bring the Duchesse,
And waite vpon her hither, withall the speed
And diligence his dutie can performe.
Art.
I shal my Lord, and as I'm one of the honest men
I am glad to heare it.
Enter Iulia.
Duke
O noble Ladie, how shall I look thy mistres i'the
face, that blush at sight of thee? prithie stand by me, and
imbolden me, bee my Genius, prompt mee what I shall
say, or the Scean's spoild; I shalbe out, my tongue doth
falter for ioy conceiu'd of her great goodnes, for griefe
of her much iniurie.
Iul.
As in the fiction, Giants make war with heauen,
But are strooke dead, so malice may strike at Vertue;
But at last, I see the blow will light where it began.
Welcome my Roiall mistresse, and I hope
Vnto more comfort, then euer yet the Saxon
Court affoorded, it beares the likeliest face
Vpon vs now.
Enter the Duchesse
Duke
Why do you kneele to me? the slanderer
Ought to aske pardon of the slandred,
My owne Law teaches it. Pray do you rise,
Or I will neuer thinke my selfe forgiuen.
Duch.
Nay now my Lord I feare you sent for mee to
mocke me.
Duke
God and all good men at my greatest need
Requite me with a mocke, if I meane any.
O let me now expire, and be the happie messenger
To sing this newes to heauen, such and so great.
Ray.
So happie reconcilements make the Angels,
Treade the bright ring, and from the ordred spheares,
Giue me your royall pardon and remit me,
The hand of death lies cold and weighty on me,
And what is he but must sinke vnder it,
Therefore goe exercise your ioyes where griefe,
May not be heard to expresse her selfe in teares,
For sorrow still sings loud vnto our eares,
Dor.
O my Lord,
Ray.
Deare Princes speake no more, I know your hart,
But as you loue my quiet, leaue me to it,
For I do find an enclination to
Rest and sleepe, and perhaps my last.
Duke.
Come then lets leaue him sicknesse is froward,
And one while company is pleasing to it,
Another while offensiue, Raymond farewell,
Heauen to his mercy take or restore thee.
Roy.
Good Duke I thanke thee, let me kisse thy hand,
And yours best Dutchesse, and Lady yours,—so
Now if you will be gone, you may,
Sicknesse knowes no manners.
Duke
Wee'le trouble you no longer Raymond.
Ray.
Why I thanke you, and all good lighten on you.
But not stay—Carolus.
Caro.
My Lord.
Ray.
Are they all forth the roome?
Caro.
Yes my Lord.
Ray.
Actiue as fire I spring out of my graue then,
And will see some before me e're I dye,
That are more fit for Earth and Heauen then I,
Fetch me some water, and a cup of wine,
Ile drinke my owne health and my lust shall pledge it,
Do I beare earth about me, sure I donnot;
No vse of feete, but ride and racke i'th Aire,
Like a black Cloud, holding in his hand lightning,
And in this a tempest, giue me, and goe
And vnderstand the cavse of Iulias stay,
It puts me into doubts and she shou'd goe
Away now with the Queene and cheat my hopes,
I haue made a sickmans plot of it,
But Iulia is Religious in her vowes,
Knowes what it is to sweare, and what to breake 'hem.
How now villaine, why returnd without her?
Caro.
Why she is gone my Lord.
Ray.
Be thou gon to then, and after her and fetch her,
And bring her to me, or lay downe thy duty,
And let me neuer see it in a face,
Or an officious leg againe presented,
Zoones are you scraping there when I forbid you.
Caro.
Alas my Lord.
Ray.
My Lord, my Loggerhead, begon.
Enter Iulia.
Caro.
O Maddam, you come like to the Halcion, and
bring faire weather with you.
Ray.
Thou art my truth, and I will studdy thee,
No more shall misbeliefe enter my thoughts:
For thy Idea standing in my heart,
As in a Temple shall fright all false suggestions,
To the Tartars. Giue me instead of Lawrell,
For my deed a sugred kisse, and crowne my ioyes.
Iul.
Away you are a villaine, I came back to tell
you so: And long life which is a blessing to others, vnto
thee's a cursse: thou shame of such a reuerence dost not
see, to what a monster lust in thee is growne: at lest in
mens immaginations.
Made vp for counsell like another Nestor:
At least in mens imaginations,
To be so monstrous Goatishly inclind.
O fie my Lord! thinke with your selfe this ill,
Prouokes not in the flesh, but in your will:
Your bloud moues slow and cold, and all the fire,
That strikes vp any heat, is in desire:
I blush for you, thinke of it.
Ray.
Yes i'le thinke of it, but you shall giue me time,
And you and I will now goe and consult of it.
Iul,
Keepe of.
Ray.
Why you wonnot, stab.
Iul.
Yes to the hart beleeue it.
Ray.
Why then a combat; look you, I am prouided too
Will you yeeld now?
Iul.
No.
Ray.
This wud shew handsome on a Stage,
An old man and a woman at the point:
Beleeue it i'le stab too.
Iul.
Thy worst: for I will mine.
Ray,
This is scuruey wooing, Iulia no more.
Iul.
Farwell then, and repent,
Ray.
Nay then you stir me, yeeld, or I will force thee.
And after pay, thy periury with death,
Are you so mannish.
Enter Duke, Duchesse and all the rest spectators.
Duke
Desist vild rauisher.
Ray.
Ha, the Duke, then rage rise high in me,
And add vnto this wickednesse a worse.
Enter Bernard with his Dagger drawne.
Bar.
Villaine, what wilt thou do, keepe of.
O I am lost.
Dor.
A gaurd.
Duk.
Cease on the Traitor,—O that those haires,
Which are the badge of truth and as I thought,
The care of her shud shru'de such villanies,
So monstrously betraying and abusing:
Away with him to death.
Ray.
To death.
Duk.
Yes a cruell and a lasting.
Dor.
I beseech your grace.
Duk.
Wilt thou beg for him whom he so hath wronged
And which is more, made me the instrument?
Dor.
Yes, good my Lord his pardon?
Duk.
Prithee sweete no more, aske any thing but that,
Let Law be of no force then in my Land,
If I forgiue such Traytors.
O where is Dorilus?
That innocent and excellent good man:
If he be liuing, let him be brought to me
That I may honor him, if dead lament,
And wash him with my teares, sit on his Hearse.
And aske forgiuenesse of his gentle spirit,
Least it do haunt me being his murtherer.
Enter Guido.
Guido
Iustice, iustice, my Soueraigne.
Duke
What art thou com'st for iustice?
Guido
One that vnder your authority performes it vpon
others.
Duke
Performe it vpon me for I am a murtherer.
Guido
My Lord.
Duke
A murtherer of my friends, of vertuous men,
Vertue her selfe did very hardly scape me.
Good my Lord.
Duke
I must see Dorilus aliue or dead,
To view how big the wound was that I gaue him,
For I will haue griefe dig one in my brest,
As deepe as it is, and as mortall too.
Dor.
Why heere is Dorrilus.
Duke
Prayers of Princes fall on thee, dost thou liue
To tell me that my sword doth want an edge,
But when it strikes offenders, rise Dorilus:
And thus vnto thy Mistresse I present thee,
As the best Iewell that I haue to giue her,
For a true Seruant is of that esteeme.
Dor.
Sir, I thanke you, but I returne him back,
As fittest for your seruice.
Fre.
Heeres giuing and taking as if thei'd both be rid
of him.
Duke
Why I thanke thee, and I receiue him gladly.
Now wher's he that wud haue Iustice?
Guido
Heere my Leige.
Duke
Against whom wud'st thou haue Iustice?
Guido
Against the President of Wittembergh.
Who falling foule with the learned Landoff
Tut or vnto my sonne, is thought by most
And of the wisest of the Vniuersity,
To haue by some trecherous plot made them away,
He nor my sonne hauing bin seene ere since.
Lan.
Why heere is Landaff sir, your poore friend in
safetie.
Guido
Landoff, where is my sonne?
Ber.
Heere sir, with a daughter to boote.
Guido
Now Gods blessing a'thy heart, if thou hast consen'd
me thus.
Ber.
E'ne thus Sir.
Fre.
So they are own'd, no body calls vpon me, nor regards
me, nor to say the truth, I regard nobody: the losse
of my inuisible Ring has broke my heart, now when I
knew the vertue of it, to lose it, and to an ideot, an innocent,
that deserues not to vnderstand the vertue of it,
what dainty deuices might I haue had in euery Chamber
of the Court, seene such a Lord, kisse such a
Lady the wrong way, such a Knight, he with his Chambermaid,
and his Lady with her Groome, the Vsher
with the waiting-Gentlewoman, and the page with all
Phœbus himselfe must a come short of those things, I
shud seen, for one inuisible Ring wud discouer another.
Du.
How now, whats the cause of this? why kneele you al?
Dor.
For that which I ioyne with them too.
Lord Raymonds life, banish him the Court,
And let him be confin'd to his house i'th country.
Duke
Thou must not aske twice what I shall deny,
Rise, 'tis granted you; see you haue good friends,
And a gracious mistresse.
Ray.
I see't, and shame to see my selfe,
How had the Diuell blinded me, I could not
See your rare vertues, O let my penitence,
Which if it be not zealous, iust heauens strike,
That breath into my throat, againe which formes,
The words I vtter, and let 'hem strangle me:
Let my true penitence I say beget,
Another verue in you, besides mercy,
Credulity that I am truly sorry,
For the bold mischiefes gainst you and my Prince:
A guilty conscience followed by despaire,
Light on all Traytors to their Soueraigne,
Without all good mans pitty and their prayers,
Fall on the slanderers of your sex:
Diseases rot him liuing, dead no graue,
But rauenous Fowles, become his sepulcher,
His bones kickt vp and downe by his enemies,
And charitable men allow of it,
Hell and the Diuels, plying him with torments:
Bast his black soule, that he may roare so loud:
As to the earth crying he heard may be,
Who slanders women, may be damnd like men.
| A Pleasant Comedie, Called The Two Merry Milke-Maids | |