 | The Mayor of Quinborough |  |
18
ACT. 2.
SCENA 1.
Enter Vortiger and Castiza.Cast.
My Lord, I am resolv'd, tempt me no farther,
'Tis all to fruitless purpose.
Vor.
Are you well?
Cast.
Never so perfect in the truth of health
As at this instant.
Vor.
Then I doubt my own,
Or that I am not waking.
Cast.
Would you were then,
Youl'd praise my resolution.
Vor.
This is wondrous,
Are you not mine by contract?
Cast.
'Tis most true, my Lord,
And I am better blest in't then I lookt for,
In that I am confin'd in faith so strictly;
I am bound my Lord, to marry none but you,
You'l grant me that; and you I'le never marry.
Vor.
It draws me into violence and hazard,
I saw you kiss the King.
Cast.
I grant you so Sir,
Where could I take my leave of the world better?
I wrong'd not you in that, you will acknowledge
A King is the best part of it.
Vor.
Oh my passion!
Cast.
I see you something yielding to Infirmity; Sir,
I take my leave.
Vor.
Why, 'tis not possible!
Cast.
The fault is in your faith, time I were gone
To give it better strengthening:
Vor.
Hark you, Lady.
19
Send your intent to the next Monastery,
There you shall find my answer ever after,
And so with my last duty to your Lordship,
For whose prosperity I will pray as heartily
As for my own.
Exit.
Vor.
How am I serv'd in this? I offer a vexation to the King,
He sends it home into my bloud with vantage.
I'le put off time no longer, I have brought him
Into most mens neglects, calling his zeal
A deep pride hallowed over, love of ease
More then devotion, or the publick benefit;
Which catcheth many mens beliefs. I am stronger too
In peoples wishes, their affections point at me.
I lose much time and glory, that redeem'd,
She that now flyes returns with joy and wonder,
Greatness and womans wish ne're keep asunder.
Exit.
Dumb show.
Enter two Villains, to them Vortiger, who seems to sollicite them with gold, then swears them, and Exit. Enter Constantius meditating, they rudely strike down his Book, draw their Swords, he kneels and spreads his arms, they kill him, hurry him off. Enter Vortiger, Devonshire and Stafford in Conference, to them the Villains presenting the head, he seems sorrowful, and in rage stabbs them both. Then they crown Vortiger, and fetch in Castiza, who comes unwillingly, he hales her, and they crown her. Aurelius and Uther Brothers of Constantius, seeing him crowned, draw and fly.
Enter Raynulph.
Ray.
When nothing could prevail to tire
The good Kings patience, they did hire
Two wicked Rogues to take his life,
In whom a while there fell a strife
Of pity and fury, but the gold
Made pity faint, and fury bold:
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The head of that religious King,
Who feigning grief, to clear his guilt,
Makes the slaughterers bloud be spilt.
Then crown they him, and force the Maid,
That vow'd a Virgin-life, to wed.
Such a strength great power extends,
It conquers Fathers, Kindred, Friends.
And since Fates pleas'd to change her life
She proves as holy in a Wife.
More to tell, were to betray
What deeds in their own tongues must say;
Onely this, the good King dead
The Brothers poor in safety fled.
Exit.
Enter Vortiger (Crowned) a Gentleman meeting him.
Gent.
My Lord.
Vor.
I fear thy News will fetch a Curse,
It comes with such a violence.
Gent.
The people are up
In Armes against you.
Vor.
Oh this dream of glory!
Sweet power, before I can have time to taste thee
Must I for ever lose thee? what's the Impostume
That swells them now?
Gent.
The Murther of Constantius.
Vor.
Ulcers of Realms! they hated him alive,
Grew weary of the minute of his Reign,
Call'd him an evil of their own electing,
And is their ignorant zeal so fiery now
When all their thanks are cold? the mutable hearts
That move in their false breasts! provide me safety,
Hark, I hear ruine threaten me with a voice
Enter a second Gentleman.
That imitates thunder.
2d Gent.
Where's the King?
Vor.
Who takes him?
2d Gent.
Send peace to all your Royal thoughts, my Lord,
21
Offer the truth of all their Service to you.
Vor.
Saxons! my wishes, let them have free entrance,
And plenteous welcomes from all hearts that love us;
They never could come happier.
Enter Hengist, Horsus, Souldiers.
Heng.
Health, power, and victory to Vortiger.
Vor.
There can be no more pleasure to a King
If all the Languages earth spake were ransackt.
Your names I know not, but so much good fortune
And warranted worth lightens your fair aspects,
I cannot but in arms of love enfold you.
Heng.
The Mistress of our births hope, fruitful Germany,
Calls me Hengistus, and this Captain Horsus,
A man low built, but yet in deeds of Arms
Flame is not swifter: we are all, my Lord,
The Sons of Fortune, she has sent us forth
To thrive by the red sweat of our own merits:
And since after the rage of many a tempest
Our Fates have cast us upon Britains bounds,
We offer you the first fruits of our wounds.
Vor.
Which we shall dearly prize, the mean'st bloud spent
Shall at wealths fountain make its own content:
Heng.
You double vigour in us then, my Lord,
Pay is the soul of such as thrive by th'Sword.
Exeunt.
Enter Vortiger and Gentlemen.
Alarm and Skirmishes.
1 Gent.
My Lord, these Saxons bring a Fortune with them
Stay any Roman success.
Vor.
On, speak forwards,
I will not take one minute from thy tydings.
1 Gent.
The main supporters of this Insurrection
They have taken Prisoners, and the rest so tame
They stoop to the least grace that flows from mercy.
Vor.
Never came power guided by better stars
Then these mens fortitudes, yet th'are mis-believers,
Which to my reason is wonderous.
Enter Hengist and Horsus with Prisoners.
Y'have given me such a first taste of your worth
22
The memory sure will follow, my soul still
Participating immortality with it.
But here's the misery of earths limited glory,
There's not a way reveal'd to any honour
Above the same which your own merits give you.
Heng.
Indeed, my Lord, we hold, when all's summ'd up,
That can be made for worth to be express'd,
The fame that a man wins himself is best,
That he may call his own; honours put to him
Make him no more a man than his clothes do,
And are as soon ta'ne off; for in the warmth
The heat comes from the body, not the weeds;
So mans true fame must strike from his own deeds.
And since by this event which fortune speaks us
This Land appears the fair predestin'd soil
Ordain'd for our good hap, we crave, my Lord,
A little earth to thrive on, what you please,
Where wee'l but keep a Nursery of good spirits
To fight for you and yours.
Vor.
Sir, for our Treasure
'Tis open to your merits, as our love;
But for y'are strangers in Religion chiefly,
(Which is the greatest Alienation can be
Enter Symon with a Hide.
And breeds most factions in the blouds of men)
I must not yield to that.
Heng.
S'precious, my Lord,
I see a pattern, be it but so little
As yon poor Hide will compass.
Vor.
How, the Hide!
Heng.
Rather then nothing, Sir.
Vor.
Since y'are so reasonable,
Take so much in the best part of our Kingdom.
Heng.
We thank your Grace. Rivers from bubbling springs
Have rise at first, and great from abject things.
Stay yonder fellow, he came luckily,
And he shall fare well for't, what e're he be,
Wee'l thank our fortune in rewarding him.
23
Stay, fellow.
Sym.
How, fellow! 'tis more then you know
Whether I be your fellow or no, I am sure you see me not.
Heng.
Come, what's the price of your Hide?
Sym.
Oh unreasonable Villain!
He would buy the house over a mans head; I'le be sure now
To make my bargain wisely, they may buy me out of my skin else;
Whose Hide would you buy, mine or the Beasts?
There is little difference in their complexions, I think mine
Is the blacker of the two; you shall see for your love, and buy for your money.
A pestilence on you all, how have you deceiv'd me?
You buy an Oxe hide? you buy a Calves Gather: they are all
Hungry Souldiers, and I took them for honest Shoomakers.
Heng.
Hold fellow, prithee hold; right a fool wordling
That kicks at all good fortune. Whose man art thou?
Sym.
I am a Servant, yet a masterless man, Sir.
Heng.
Prithee how can that be?
Sym.
Very nimbly, Sir,
My Master is dead, and now I serve my Mistress,
Ergo, I am a masterless man, she is now a widow,
And I am the Foreman of her Tan-pit.
Heng.
Hold you, and thank your Fortune, not your wit.
Sym.
Faith, and I thank your bounty and not your wisdom,
You are not troubled with wit neither greatly, it seems:
Now by this light a nest of Yellow Hammers!
What will become of me? If I can keep all these without hanging
My self, I am happier then a hundred of my Neighbours.
You shall have my skin into the bargain,
Then if I chance to dye like a Dog
The labour will be sav'd of fleaing me;
Ile undertake, Sir, you shall have
All the skins in our Parish at this price, mens and womens.
Heng.
Sirrah, give good ear to me; now take the Hide
And cut it all into the slendrest thongs
That can bear strength to hold.
Sym.
That were a jest y'faith,
Spoil all the Leather? sin and pity,
Why 'twould shooe half your Army.
24
Do it I bid you.
Sym.
What, cut it all in thongs? hum,
This is like the vanity of your Roman Ga lants, that cannot wear
Good Suits but they must have them cut and slasht in giggets,
That the very crimson Taffaties sit blushing at their follies;
I would I might perswade you from this humour of cutting,
'Tis but a swaggering condition and nothing profitable: what if it
Were but well pinckt? 'twould last longer for a summer suit.
Heng.
What a cross lump of ignorance have I lighted on?
I must be forc'd to beat my drift into him;
Look you, to make you wiser then your Parents,
I have so much ground given me as this Hide will compass,
Which, as it is, is nothing.
Sym.
Nothing quoth a,
Why 'twill not keep a Hog.
Heng.
Now with the vantage
Cut into several pieces 'twill stretch far
And make a liberal Circuit.
Sym.
A shame on your crafty Hide
Is this your cunning? I have learnt more knavery now
Then ever I shall claw off while I live.
I'le go purchase land by Cow-tails and undo the Parish,
Three good Bulls pizzels would set up a man for ever,
This is like a pin a day to set up a Haberdasher of small wares.
Heng.
Thus men that mean to thrive, as we must learn,
Set in a foot at first.
Sym.
A foot do you call it?
The Devil is in that foot that takes up all this Leather.
Heng.
Dispatch, and cut it carefully with all the advantage, Sirra.
Sym.
You could never have lighted upon such a fellow
To serve your turn, Captain; I have such a trick of stretching too,
I learn'd it of a Tanners man that was hang'd
Last Sessions at Maidstone,
I'le warrant you I'le get you a mile and a half
More then y'are aware of.
Heng.
Pray serve me so as oft as you will, Sir.
Sym.
I am casting about for 9 acres to make a garden plot,
Out of one of the Buttocks.
25
'Twill be a good soil for Nose-gayes.
Sym.
'Twill be a good soil for Cabbages to stuff out the guts
Of your Followers there:
Heng.
Go see it carefully perform'd,
It is the first foundation of our fortunes
On Britains earth, and ought to be embrac'd
With a respect neer link'd to adoration.
Methinks it sounds to me a fair assurance
Of large honours and hopes, does it not, Captain?
Hors.
How many have begun with less at first
That have had Emperours from their bodies sprung,
And left their Carcasses as much in monument
As would erect a Colledge?
Heng.
There's the fruits
Of their religious shew too, to lye rotting
Under a million spent in gold and marble.
Hors.
But where shall we make choice of our ground, Captain?
Heng.
About the fruitful flanks of uberous Kent,
A fat and olive soil, there we came in;
Oh Captain, he has given he knows not what.
Hors.
Long may he give so.
Heng.
I tell thee, Sirrah, he that begg'd a field
Of fourscore Acres for a Garden-plot,
'Twas pretty well, but he came short of this.
Hors.
Send over for more Saxons.
Heng.
With all speed, Captain.
Hors.
Especially for Roxena.
Heng.
Who, my Daughter?
Hor.
That Star of Germany, forget not her, Sir,
She is a fair fortunate Maid,
Fall she is, and fortunate may she be,
But in Maid lost for ever, my desire
Has been the close confusion of that name.
A treasure 'tis, able to make more Thieves
Then Cabinets set open to entice,
Which learn them theft that never knew the vice.
Heng.
Come, I'le dispatch with speed.
Hors.
Do, forget none.
26
Marry pray help my memory.
Hors.
Roxena you remember?
Heng.
What more dear Sir?
Hors.
I see your memory's clear, Sir.
Heng.
Those shouts leap'd from our Army.
Hors.
They were too cheerful
To voice a bad event.
Heng.
Now, Sir, your News?
Enter a Gentleman.
Gen.
Roxena the fair.
Heng.
True, she shall be sent for.
Gen.
She's here, Sir.
Heng.
What say'st?
Gen.
She's come, Sir.
Hors.
A new youth begins me o're agen.
Gen.
Followed you close, Sir,
With such a zeal as daughter never equall'd,
Expos'd her self to all the merciless dangers
Set in mankind or fortune, not regarding
Ought but your sight.
Heng.
Her love is infinite to me.
Hors.
Most charitably censur'd, 'tis her cunning,
The love of her own lust, which makes a woman
Gallop down hill as fearless as a Drunkard,
There's no true Loadstone in the world but that,
It draws them through all storms by Sea or shame,
Life's loss is thought too small to pay that game.
Gen.
What follows more of her will you take strongly.
Heng.
How!
Gen.
Nay 'tis worth your wonder.
Her heart joy ravish'd with your late success
Being the early morning of your fortunes,
So prosperously new opening at her coming,
She takes a Cup of Gold, and midst the Army,
Teaching her knee a reverend cheerfulness,
Which well became her, drank a liberal health
To the Kings joys and yours, the King in presence,
Who with her sight, but her behaviour chiefly,
Or chief but one or both, I know not which,
27
'Twere art enough for one mans time and portion
To speak him and miss nothing.
Heng.
This is astonishing!
Hors.
Oh this ends bitter now, our close hid flame
Will break out of my heart, I cannot keep it.
Heng.
Gave you attention, Captain? how now man?
Hors.
A kind of grief about these times of the Moon still,
I feel a pain like a Convulsion,
A Cramp at heart, I know not what name fits it.
Florish.
Heng.
Nor never seek one for it, let it go
Enter Vortiger, Roxena, &c.
Without a name, would all griefs were serv'd so.
Hors.
A Love knot already, arm in arm!
Vor.
What's he lays claim to her?
Heng.
In right of Father-hood
I challenge an obedient part.
Vor.
Take it, and send back the rest.
Heng.
What means your Grace?
Vor.
You'le keep no more then what
Belongs to you?
Heng.
That's all, my Lord, it all belongs to me,
I keep the husbands Interest til he come,
Yet out of duty and respect to Majesty
I send her back your Servant
Vor.
My Mistress, Sir, or nothing.
Heng.
Come again, I never thought to hear so ill of thee.
Vor.
How, Sir, so ill?
Heng.
So beyond detestable,
To be an honest Vassal is some Calling,
Poor is the worst of that, shame comes not to't;
But Mistress that the only common bait
Fortune sets at all hours, catching Whore with it,
And plucks them up by Clusters. There's my sword, my Lord,
And if your strong desires aim at my bloud
Which runs too purely there, a nobler way
Quench it in mine.
Vor.
I ne're took sword in vain,
Hengist, we here create thee Earl of Kent.
28
Oh that will doe't.
Vor.
What ails our friend? look to him.
Rox.
Oh 'tis his Epilepsy, I know it well,
I helpt him once in Germany, comes it again?
A Virgins right hand stroak'd upon his heart
Gives him ease straight, but it must be a pure Virgin,
Or else it brings no comfort.
Vor.
What a task
She puts upon her self, unurged purity!
The truth of this will bring loves rage into me.
Rox.
Oh this would mad a woman, there's no proof
In love to indiscretion.
Hors.
Pish, this cures not.
Rox.
Dost think I'le ever wrong thee?
Hors.
Oh most feelingly,
But I'le prevent it now and break thy neck
With thy own cunning; thou hast undertaken
To give me help, to bring in Royal credit
Thy crackt Virginity, but I'le spoil all,
I will not stand on purpose, though I could,
But fall still, to disgrace thee.
Rox.
What, you will not?
Hors.
I have no other way to help my self,
For when th'art known to be a whore imposterous
I shall be sure to keep thee.
Rox.
Oh, Sir, shame me not,
Y'have had what is most precious, try my faith,
Undo me not at first in chast opinion.
Hors.
All this art shall not make me feel my Legs.
Rox.
I prithee do not wilfully confound me?
Hors.
Well I am content for this time to recover
To save thy credit, and bite in my pain;
But if thou ever fail'st me, I will fall,
And thou shalt never get me up again.
Rox.
Agreed 'twixt you and I, Sir, see, my Lord,
A poor maids work, the man may pass for health now,
Among the clearest blouds, and those are nicest:
Vor.
I have heard of women brought men on their knees,
29
Hors.
My Lord, methinks I could do things past man
I'me so renew'd in vigour, I long most
For violent exercise to take me down,
My joy's so high in bloud I'me above frailty.
Vor.
My Lord of Kent?
Heng.
Your loves unworthy Creature.
Vor.
Seest thou this fair Chain? think upon the means
To keep it link'd for ever.
Heng.
Oh my Lord,
'Tis many degrees sundred from my hope,
Besides Your Grace has a young vertuous Queen.
Vor.
I say think on it.
Hors.
If this wind hold I fall to my old disease:
Vor.
There's no fault in thee but to come so late,
All else is excellent, I chide none but fate.
Exeunt.
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