 | Love And Honovr |  |
Act 1.
Scæna 1.
A Retreate being sounded as from far, Enter Vasco, Altesto, Frivolo.Vasco.
Heark boyes? they sound us a retreat? this skirmish (sirs)
Was no rare pastime to continue at;
'Tis saffer wrastling in a bed; give me
Hence-forth your white fac'd foe, a plumpe faire enemie
That weares her head peece lac'd; I'm for a cambrick helmet, I.
Altesto.
And yet these mighty men of Millain got
But little by the sport; some of them shall
Vouchsafe to weare a single arme heareafter,
Two wodden leggs too, and limpe their dayes out
In an Hospitall.
Frivolo.
How? an Hospitall?
Vasco.
A rode, a rode; your highway sir is now
Your onely walke of state for your maim'd soldier.
Your Hospitalls and pensions are reserv'd
For your maim'd Mercer, decay'd sonnes o'th shop,
That have been often crackd not in their crownes
Like us, but in their credit sir.
Frivolo.
And placket squires, that have bin long diseas'd
In their Lords service; a score of duckets
Shall bribe them into place, where they may sleep,
And eate, and pray too, but with breath so much
Vnholsome, th'ayre can hardly purify't
And make it fit to reach neare heaven!
Altesto.
Well, the surprize o'th cittadell, wherein
The Duke had plac'd his daughter, with the Ladies
Of her traine, and treasure too, was a service
Of most rare work.
Vasco.
Just when they sally'd out
To cut our Rere in peeces, then steale in
By Ambush wisely layd, and make them all
Our prize, was miracle.
Frivolo.
They say his daughter scap'd, and fled, with her
As her best guard, one they call Leonell
Enter Tristan.
Whom our Count Prospero pursu'd.
Vas.
Tristan? Welcome; is all our pillage waggond
Shall it to night see Turin?
Tristan.
Alls safe my lusty leader, our horse too
Have sounded a retreat, and the foe sneake
He walkes with's hands in's pockets like a skipper
In a frost.
Vas.
Well, let me reckon my estate;
First a widdow prisoner.
Altesto.
Mine's a maide prisoner,
Young my Uasco, she's yet in her first blush
And I've dispatch'd her unto Turin too
My Mothers house, thy prisoner in her company,
They are acquainted.
Uasco.
You have the luck; these bald chinnes are as familiar
2
Play with them, and turn 'em which way they please;
I fought as well as he; and yet (forsooth)
His prisoner must be faire, and young, & mine
So old she might have given Hercules suck,
Now she sucks too, for she hath no teeth left,
In one moneth she'l cost me as much in cawdles
And sweet candy, as her ransome comes too.
Fri.
But you have other pillage Captaine.
Vas.
Let me see, 3 Barbarie horses with rich
Caparisons, 2 Chests o'th Generalls cloths.
Alt.
And I 2 chests o'th Generalls plate.
Friv.
In those I share Altesto.
Uasco.
How? plate? shall we incounter our sowc'd fish
And broyld Pullen in silver service rogues?
Like furr'd Magnificoes?
Frivolo.
We shall Captaine, but you may dip your morsell in good china earth.
Altest.
All your plate Uasco, is the silver handle
Of your old prisoners franne.
Enter Prospero (wounded) and Evandra (her armes in a scarfe Piniond.)
Trist.
Here comes Prospero the valiant Count.
Uas.
And with him the brave prize.
Pros.
Evandra do not mourne, I that have made
You captive thus with hazard of my youth
And blood, shall think you now as worthy of
My care, as of my volour in the fight;
Can I esteeme you lesse by being mine?
Evand.
What have I done (unknown unto my heart)
That I should tempt your valour to so great
A sin as my captivity? or are my crimes
Observ'd more than my prayers, that heaven shall leave
Me to be come the scorne of victorie?
Pros.
It is the sad preheminence of your
Exemplar birth and beauty, to conferr.
Honour on him that is your conqueror.
Evan.
Honour? is that the word that hath so long
Betrayd the Emulous world, and scold the noblest race
Of men, into a vex'd, and angry death?
If 'twere a vertue 'twould not strive t'inthrall,
And thus distresse the innocent.
Pros.
I am the warrs disciple, and since first
I had the growth to weare a sword, I nere
Was taught how to subdue by reason but
By strength. Altesto?
Altesto.
My Lord.
Pros.
Take here this Lady to your charge, conduct
Her unto Turin, and there guard her in
My house till my approach.
Altesto.
I shall my Lord.
Pros.
Let her be safe Altesto in thy care
On forfeiture of life, she is my prisoner
And th'noblest in the field, the beautious
Heire of Millaine; had not my niggard stars
Intended me but halfe a courtesie,
The Duke her Father had lamented now
Under the same fate.
Vasco.
I could wish your Lordship would beleeve me
A fitter man, to take charge of the Lady.
Pros.
VVhy Captaine?
Vas.
You could not commit her to an Eunuch
VVith more safety; if the great Turke knew me
(Honest Achmet) he would trust me in's Seraglio
(By this hand) without defalking one graine beneath the waste.
Pros.
Successe hath made you wanton Cap.
Uas.
Besides (my Lord) I have tane an old Abesse
Prisoner, o such a Governesse for a
Young maid, sheel read to her such homilies,
And teach her such receipts out of the Fathers,
How to cure the toothach, preserve plumms,
And boyle Amber possits, will make her sir
In three dayes a very St.
Pros.
VVell you shall take my bounty too, close by
The valley that doth joyne to th'neighbour grove
Lyes conquerd by my sword a Millain knight,
His wounds medcin'd, & stopt by the best art
I had, but by much losse of blood unable yet
3
Uas.
I thank your Lordship
Pros.
But use him nobly Uasco, for he hath
A courage that well merited his cause,
And fought with eager and with skillfull, strength
To free that lady from my bonds, but the glad day was mine.
Vas.
He shall be kindly us'd,
Only your sweet lordship must give me leave
When he pay's his ransom to weigh his gold,
Were he my father sir, he must indure
The tryall of my scales; follow Tristan.
Pros.
Make haste; see him well waggond, and provide
A surgeon to attend his cure.
Ex. Vas. Trist.
Evan.
Sir, can you find no pitty yet within
Your breast? you have already shewn enough
Of your sterne fathers spirit, is there not
In all your heart so much of softnes as
Declares you had a mother too, must I
Be led a captive, and in a cruell land
Lament your victorie?
Pros.
Altesto, beare her from my sight? make haste?
I am not safe, when I converse with teares.
Exeunt Altesto, Evandra.
I would ambition were not brave in war?
Or that the rage of Princes had not made
It lawfull to subdue whom they dislike,
Or 'twere ignoble to inflict a miserie,
As to indur't our selves; Frivolo, where
Didst thou leave the prince?
Friv.
In pursuit of the Duke, who since we heare
Recoverd Millaine, which caus'd him sound us.
(Drum march afar off.
A retreat,—heark sir, his march leades hither;
It is his way to Turin.
Enter Calladine.
The prince, the prince; my Lord Prospero
You have been sought for, the valiant prince
For this day's action hath advanc'd you to
The publique eare, and we your friends rejoyc'd.
Pros.
I did but as his bold example gave
Me fire; I saw him conquer, kill, and leade
In fetters sad faces, which I nere saw
Before, and I beleev'd 'twas good; I wish
That heaven may thinke so too; I doe not converse
VVith bookes; but I have heard our enemies
(Although they wrong'd not me) must be so us'd.
Enter Alvaro, Soldiers stripping off his Corslet.
Vnbuckle Calladine, the day is hott,
And our great businesse cooles like to their heares,
That fled to humbled Millaine, & have left
Their fainting honour hovering over our crests,
Leade on my horse in triumph; I will march
On foot, he hath perform'd his worke, as he
Had equall'd me in sence of what he did.
Cal.
Sir, Prospero the Count, whom your kind feares
(Pros. kneeles kisses his hand
So heartily inquir'd for i'th retreat
Alva.
Rise noble youth, and let me hold thee neere
My heart, joyne thy stout brest to mine that we
May grow a while together in our love,
Yet when divided, be the same in thought
And acts this day thou hast begot an historie,
And given our Savoy Chronicles a theame
To teach them boast, and be beleev'd.
Pros.
Alvaro? my dread Prince, why should you lose
Your prayse on me, that did but imitate
The faintest of your vigour, and your skill?
You bred mee from my childhood to doe things
That they call glorious, though (dull and much unlearnd)
I cannot reach the cause of what I doe,
More than your example, and command.
Alva.
Since thou gett'st strength to weare a sword, thou hast
Been mine, and t'hath been drawn to execute
My will, and though (I know not why) thou wast
Averse to arts, and written labours of
The wise, yet discipline of warre thou lov'dst
And bring thee to a fiery steed, him thou
VVouldst sit, and mannage with such gentle rule
That our Idolatrous Philosophers
Beleev'd thou hadst created, whom thou I taught'st.
Pros.
Your love will breed me envy sir; something
4
My weaker toyles) which may perhaps deserve
Your fathers thanks, and yours, and's yet unknown
Vnto you both, Evandra, heir of Millaine,
I have fought for, tane prisoner, and sent
To Turin, a reward for our just war.
Alva.
Hah! the faire Evandra made prisoner?
And Prospero by thee?
Pros.
Why should you thinke him whom you prais'd
So much, unfit for such a victorie.
Alva.
Now all the blessings of my faithfull love
Are lost; she whom I doated on with my
Most chast, and early apetite, is sent
In bonds, t'apease my cruell fathers wrath.
Call.
My Lord, he lov'd her much though temp'rately
Conceald from gen'rall knowledge, and his friends.
Pros.
Then mount my courser Frivolo, and try
If by the happy quicknesse of his speed,
Thou canst recover her returne, and use
Her with such faire respective homage as
May expiate my violent surprize.
Ex. Friv.
Alva.
Fly, fly; I would thy nimble motion could
Oretake the arrow from th'Assyrian bow,
Or swifter lightning whom our fight pursues
And is to slow to reach.
Pros.
What have I done, that I should thus mistake
An act of valiant glorie, for a deed
That argues an austere Ignoble rage?
Alv.
Faire Evandra, the pide of Italy,
In whom the Graces met to rectifie
Themselves, that had not cause enough to blush
Vnlesse for pitty they were not so good
As she; think now the Easterne spices sweet,
And that the blossoms of the spring perfume
The morning ayre; necessity must rule
Beliefe, lets strew our Altars with them now,
Since she's imprisond, stifled, and chok'd up
Like weeping Roses in a still, whose Inarticulate breath
Heaven through a purer sacrifice than all our orizons.
Pros.
Is she not fitter then
For Turin, than for Millaine sir? I saw
You take prisoners, and in my fury had
Discretion to atchieve the best.
Alva.
O thou hast lost my heart; hence doth proceed
This recreant act, that to thy savage courage
I could never joyne the temperature
Of sweet Philosophy; hadst thou been learnd,
And read the noble deeds of gentle knights,
Reason had check'd thy rage, thy vallor would
Have been more pittifull than to have lead
A virgin into harsh captivity.
Pros.
I thought I had done well.
Alv.
How! well? draw back that falshood in thy breath
Agen, or I will pierce thy heart, that thou
Mayst dye Impenitent.
Drawes his sword, Call. stayes him.
Vnhand me Callandine, I've already met
My better thoughts; why should I waste my wrath
On such a forester? wild as the woods,
Where he should graze with the brute heard, who though they want
Discoursive soule, are lesse inhumane farre than he.
Pros.
She was the daughter of our greatest enemie,
And so I us'd her sir.
Alva.
A cholerick Beare, or hungry Panther would
Have us'd her with more soft remorce; had I
Incounterd her in the mad heate of chace,
In all the fury of the fight, I would
Have taught my angry steed the easie and
The peacefull motion of a lambe,
She should have set his back, soft as the ayre,
And in her girdle bridle him, more curb'd
Than in his foaming bitt, whilst I her slave,
Walk'd by, marking what hasty flowers sprung up,
Invited by her eye-beames from their cold rootes;
And this would each true soldier do, that had
Refin'd his courage with the sober checks
Of sweet Philosophy.
Pros.
Would you had taught me some Philosophy
Before I learn'd to fight.
5
All hope is past; she was convey'd in one
Of your swift chariots sir, which it doth seem
Altesto did unhappily oretake,
And she's ere this within our Turin walls.
Pros.
Such language and such newes better become
The fatall birds of night, so Ravens croke
When they fly ore the mansions of the sick
And bode their deaths.
Alv.
Prospero, see me no more,
Th'art a disease unto my injurd fight:
Flye to some lustfull coast, where none but Goates
And Satyrs live, where the name of virgin is
As strange as this thy cruelty, there thou
Mayst hope to wander not contemn'd, should I
Behold thy face agen, and let thee live,
My patience would become my vildest guilt.
Cal.
See, sir, he weepes; can you indure him mourne
And languish thus, whom heeretofore you did
Embrace in the chiefe ranck of love, not mov'd
(Sir) with his teares?
Alv.
No more han to behold
The pudled channell overflow, he saw
Her weepe, and could indur't; the drops fell downe
Me thinks, as when the pitteous Pelican
Wounds her remorsefull breast.
Pros.
Sir, have I in one hasty moment, so
Farre merited my ruine that no meanes
Is left to winne me to your former grace.
Alv.
Never, unlesse thou couldst restore
Evandras liberty, she is ere this
Within my fathers reach, whose nature is
Severe, and mortall to her fathers blood,
An ancient vow he tooke, will make her destine
So sad, I feare to thinke on it, poore Evandra.
Pros.
I sent her in good conduct to my house,
VVhere is a cave, so art fully conceld
Within my gardens verge, that not the sunnes
Most prying beames, nor humane search
Can ere discover it, Ile hide her there,
Till time and apt convenience can dispose
Her unto Millaine.
Alva.
Fly then, loose not the sick hope with slow
Pursuit, fate keepe her from my father.
Pros.
Ile strive to groane away my breath, and die.
Exit Pros.
Cornet flourishes farr off.
Frivo.
Heark sir, the Duke your father sure
Doth ride in triumph through the towne, to meete
And celebrate your victorie.
Alva.
Give order that our troops march, march slowly on;
Our Drums should now in sable cases beate
Our collours foulded, and our Muskets be
Reverst, whilst our dejected pikes we traile,
But that I feare, t'would breed inquirie in
My father of a cause, he must not know,
O Callendine? Evandra is in bonds.
Exit.
Enter Vasco, Tristan, Leonell wounded and led.
Vasco.
Prepare the waggon Tristan, spread a matt in't,
And (dost here) bid my Ancient teare of's collors
For a coverlet, tis thine sir, all our Asist?
Trist.
All's ready sir, ith bottom of the hill,
He shall be us'd like a Queen when shee lyes in.
Uas.
Softly Tristan, he moves as weakely as
His sinnewes were of spinners threads, so cutt
And carv'd; he hath made your skin sir, only
Fit to be worne in summer; this Prospero
Is a Turke when's whinyards drawne, and shines in's eyes.
Leonell.
He us'd me nobly sir, when I had bled
My selfe past strength to conquer him, wee could
I hope to finde such mercy in an Enemie
Lesse I had fallen beneath the force of your
Alvaro, Prince of Piemont.
Vas.
I there's a man; tis true, Lord Prospero vallant,
I thinke he dares meet the devill in Duell,
And give him two flashs of lightning odds, but
He wants that they call learning sir, Prince Alvaro;
Is (as they say) a philosopey man:
He talkes of Rabins, and strange Hebrew roots;
Things we dull Souldiers hither learn then mention.
6
He can tell you sir how many showers fell
Since Noahs flood.
Vas.
I, and how many cloakes those showers have wett.
Leonell.
Have you no knowledge of the Lady sir
That was surpriz'd from my protection by young Prospero?
Vas.
Good; was ever creature of heavens making
So libidinous as paltry man? now
Has he a mind to the Lady? she sir,
Is safe in Turin, whither strait we mean
To lead you too.
Leon.
Some comfort yet; it is decreed I must
Indure my bondage I where she suffers her's;
Poore Evandra; was fate so niggardly
She could allow no more protection for
Thy beauty than my single fortitude?
Trist.
Come move on sir, it will be late ere we
Shall reach the towne.
Leon.
What other fortune had the battaile?
Vas.
We swadled your Duke home he and the rest
Of your bruis'd countymen have woundrous need
Of capons greafe.
Leon.
Strange giddinesse of warre; some men must groane
To further others mirth, what furie rules
Ore humane sence, that we should struggle to
Destroy in wounds, and rage, our life, that heaven
Decreed so short: It is a mysterie
Too sad to be remembred by the wise,
That halfe mankind consume their noble blood,
In causes not belov'd, or understood.
Exeunt.
| Love And Honovr | |