 | The Queene of Arragon |  |
Actus Primus.
Scena Prima.
Enter Sanmartino and Cleantha.Clean.
My Lord, lets change the subject: Love is worne
So thred-bare out of fashion, and my faith
So little leanes to vowes.
San.
The rage of time,
Or sicknesse, first must ruine that bright Fabrique,
Nature tooke pride to build.
Clean.
I thanke my youth then
For th'tender of your service: Tis the last
Good turne it did me, But by this my feares
Instruct me, when the old bald man cal'd Time
Comes stealing on me, and shall steale away
What you call beauty: my neglected face
Must be inforc't to goe in quest for a new
Knight Errant.
San.
Slander not my constant faith,
Nor doubt the care fate hath to stoppe the Motion
Of envious Time, might it indanger so
Supreame a beautie.
Clean.
Sure my Lord fate hath
More serious businesse, or Divines make bold
T'instruct us in a scisme. But grant I could
Induce my selfe, (which I despaire I shall)
To heare and talke that emptie nothing Love
Ist now in season, when an Armie lyes
Before our Citie gates, and every houre
A battery expected? Deere my Lord
And as I am inform'd by them, who seeme
To know some part oth' way, Loves not the neerest
Path that leades thither.
San.
Madam! he is but
A Coward Lover, whom or death or hell
Can fright from's Mistris. And for danger now
Threatning the Citie; How can I so arme
My selfe, as by your favour, proofe against
All stratagems of warre.
Cleant.
Your Lordship then
Shall walke as safe, as if a Lapland witch
(You will not envie me the honour of
The metaphor) preserv'd you shot-free. But
Who is your Confessor? Yet spare his name
His function will forgive the glory of it.
Sure he's ill read in Cases to allow
A married Lord the freedome of this Courtship.
San.
Can you thinke Madam that I trust my sinnes
(But vertues are those loves I pay your beauty)
To th'councell of a Cassock? Who hath art
To judge of my confession; must have had
At least a Privie Chamberer to his Father.
We of the Court commit not as the vulgar,
Dull ignorant sinnes. Then that I'm married Madam
Is rather safety to our Love.
Clean.
My heart!
How sicke am I oth' sudden? Good my Lord
Call your dwarfe hither.
San.
Garaganta! Boy.
Enter Browfilldora.
Clean.
Preethee, thy pedegree.
San.
Madam! What meane you?
Clean.
O any thing, but to divert from Love.
Another word of Courtship, and I swound.
Garag.
My Ancestors were Giants Madam. Giants
Pure Spanish, who disdain'd to mingle with
The blood of Goth or Moore. Their mighty actions
In a small letter Nature Printed on
Your little Servant.
Clean.
How so very little:
Gar.
By the decay of Time, and being forc't
From fertile pastures to the barren hills
Of Biskay. Even in trees you may observe
Lesse happie, lose in groath. Is not the once
Huge body of the Roman Empire, now
A very Pigmie?
Cleant.
But why change you not
That so Gigantick name of Brumfilldora.
Gar.
Spight of malignant Nature, Ile preserve
The memory of my forefathers: They shall live
In me contracted.
San.
Madam! lets returne
To th'love we last discourst on.
Clean.
This my Lord
Is much more serious. What course thing is that?
Enter Oniate and Floriana.
Flor.
I owe you sir, for th'pleasure of this walke.
Oniate.
Madam it was to me the highest honour.
Exit. Oniate.
Clean.
Welcome ô welcome to redeeme me. What
Can the best wit of woman fancie, we
Have beene discoursing of?
Floria.
Sure not of love?
Clean.
Of that most ridiculous hobby horse Love;
That foole that fooles the world. That Spaniell Love
That fawnes the more tis kickt.
San.
Will you betray me?
Clean.
Thy Lord hath so protested Floriana;
Vowed such an Altar to my beutie, swoare
So many oathes, and such prophane oathes too;
To be religious in performing all
That's impious toward heaven, and to a Ladie
Most ruinous.
Floria.
Good Cleantha: all your detraction
Winnes no beleefe on my suspition.
Cleant.
Be credulous and be abused. Floriana!
There's no vice so great as to thinke him vertuous:
Goe mount your milke-white steede sir Lancelot
Your little squire attends you there. In suburbs
Inchanted Castles are where Ladies waite
To be deliver'd by your mighty hand,
Goe and protest there.
San.
I thanke your favour Madam.
Exit. Sanmar.
Clea.
It is not so much worth sir, come weele follow.
Flor.
But stay Cleantha. Prethee what begot
That squeamish looke, that scornefull wry oth' mouth
When Oniate parted?
Why? Thou hadst
So strange a fellow in thy Companie
His Garbe was so uncourtly, I grew sicke.
Flor.
He is a Gentleman: and adde to that
Makes good the Title.
Clean.
Haply he may so
And haply he's enamor'd on thy beautie.
Flo.
On mine Cleantha?
Clean.
Yes deere Floriana.
Yet neither danger to thy chastitie,
Nor blemish to thy fame. Custome approves it.
But I owe little to my memory,
If ere I saw him 'mong the greater Ladies:
Sure he's some suburbe Courtier.
Flori.
He's Noble:
And hath a soule. A thing is questiond much
In most of the gay youths, whom you converse with.
Clean.
But how disorderly his haire did hang?
Flor.
Yet 'twas his owne.
Clean.
How ill turn'd up his beard?
And for his cloathes.
Florian.
Though not fresh every morning,
Yet in the fashion.
Clean.
Yes ith' sober fashion:
Which Courtiers weare who hope to be imploy'd
And aime at businesse. But he's not gentile:
Not discomposed enough to Court a Ladie.
Flor.
His thoughts are much more serious.
Clean.
Guard me Fortune!
I would not have the Court take notice that
I walked one houre with that state Aphorisme,
Each Autumne to renew my youth. Let us
Discourse with Lords whose heads and legges move more
Than doe their tongues, and to as good a sense.
Who snatching from my hand a Glove, can sigh
And print a kisse, and then returne it backe.
Who on my buske, even with a pin can write
The Anagrame of my Name: Present it humbly
Fall backe and smile.
Flor.
Cleantha! I perceive
There is small hope of thy conversion;
Thou art resolv'd to live in this heresie.
Clean.
Yes: since tis the Religion of our Sex.
Sweete Floriana, I will not yet suffer
Enter Ossuna and Oniate with divers Souldiers.
But what are they appeare there?
Flor.
Wee'le away.
Exeunt Floria. and Cleantha.
Ossuna.
This is the place for enterview. You who 'ar
Deputed for this service from the Lord
Florentio, use such caution as befits
Your charge. How ere your Generalls persons safe:
The Lord Decastro having past his word.
Oniate.
Yet tis my wonder, that Florentio
A Souldier so exact, practis'd in all
The mysteries of warre and peace, should trust
Himself where th'enemies faith must best secure him
Ossun.
The great Decastro sir, whom our late King
Deputed regent at his death, and whom
The Kingdome judgeth fit to marry with
His onely heire the present Queene (though she
Disdaine his love and our desires) hath proved
To time and fortune, that he feares no danger
But what may wound his honour. How can then
Florentio (though he now set downe before
Our Citie with so vast an Army) choose
A place for enterview, by Art and Nature
So fortified; as where Decastro's faith
Makes it impregnable?
Oniate.
Distrust my Lord,
Is the best Counceler to great designes:
Our confidence betrayes us. But betweene
These two are other seeds of Jealousie:
Such as would almost force Religion breake
Her tying vowes, authorize perjurie,
And make the scrupulous Casuist say, that faith
Is the fooles vertue. They both love the Queene,
Decastro building on his high deserts,
And vote of Arragon: Florentio on
The favour he gain'd from her Majestie
When here he lived imploy'd by his great Master
King of Castile.
Ossuna.
Such politicke respects
May warrant the bad statesman to darke actions.
But both these Generalls by a Noble warre,
Resolve to try their fate.
Oniate.
But here my Lord
Is a full period to all serious thought.
This Lord is so impertinent, yet still
Vpon the whisper.
Ossuna.
He's a mischiefe Sir,
No Court is safe from.
Oniate.
What fine trickes he showes
Each morning on his gennet, but to gaine
A female Vision from some halfe-open'd window,
And if a Lady smile by accident
Or but in scorne of him; yet he kinde soule
Interprets it as Prophesie to some
Neere favour to ensue at night.
Ossuna.
I wonder
What makes him thought a Wit.
Oniate.
A copper wit,
Which fooles let passe for currant. So false coine
Such very Alchimie, that who vents him
For ought but parcell asse, may be in danger:
Looke on him, and in little there see drawne
The picture of the youth is so admired,
Of the spruce Sirs: whom Ladies and their women
Call the fine Gentlemen.
Ossuna.
What are those papers,
With such a sober brow, he lookes upon?
Oniate.
Nor platforme, nor intelligence, but a Prologue;
He comes to whisper to one of the Maids
Ith' Privie chamber after supper.
Ossuna.
I praise the courage of his folly yet,
Whom feare cannot make wiser.
San,
My good Lord!
Brave Oniate! Saw you not the Generall?
Onia.
He's upon entrance here. And how my Lord?
I saw your Lordship turning over papers,
Whats the discovery?
San.
It may import
Decastro's knowledge. Never better language
Or neater wit. A paper of such verses
Writ by th'exactest hand.
Ossuna.
In time of businesse
As serious as our safety, to intrude
The dreames of madmen?
San.
My Judicious Lord!
Concerne the Generall. Such high rapture,
In admiration of the Queene, whom he
Pretends to Love. How will her Majestie
Smile on his sute, when in the heare of businesse
He not neglects this amorous way to woe her?
Enter Decastro.
Decast.
No man presume t'advance a foot. My Lord
Ossuna I desire your eare.
San.
My Lord
I have a peece here of such elegant wit.
Decast.
Your pardon good my Lord, we'le finde an houre
Lesse serious to advise upon your papers,
And then at large we'le whisper.
San.
As you please
My Lord youle pardon the errour of my dutie.
Exit Sanmar.
Ossun.
The Queene my Lord gave free accesse to what
I spoke oth' publicke, but when I began
To mention love.
Decast.
How did she frowne? Or with
What murdering scorne, heard she Decastro named?
Love! of thy laberinth of Art, what path
Left I untroden? Humbly I have labor'd
To win her favour: and when that prevail'd not;
The Kingdome, in my quarrell, vowed to emptie
The veines of their great body.
Ossuna.
Sir her heart
Is mightier than misfortune. Though her youth
Soft as some consecrated virgin waxe,
Seeme easie for impression: Yet her vertue
Hard as a rocke of Diamond, breakes all
The battery of the waves.
Decastro.
Unkind and cruell!
Ossu.
She charg'd me tell you that a faithlesse Moore
Who had gain'd honour onely by the ruine
Of what we hold religious, sooner she
Would welcome to her bed; than who t'his Queene
And Love had beene a Rebell.
Decast.
How? A rebell?
The peoples suffrage, which inaugurats Princes,
Hath warranted my actions.
Ossun.
But she answeres
The suttle Arts of faction, not free vote
Commanded her restraint.
May even those starres
Whose influence made me great, turne their aspects
To blood and ruine; if ambition rais'd
The appetite of Love. Her beauty hath
A power more Soveraigne, than th'Easterne slave
Acknowledg'd ever in his Idoll King.
To that I bowed a subject. But when I
Discover'd that her fancie fixt upon
Florentio (Generall now of th'enemies Armie)
I let the people use their severe way:
And they restrain'd her.
Ossuna.
But my Lord their guilt
Is made your crime. Yet all this new affliction
Disturbs her not to anger, but disdaine.
Decast.
She hath a glorious spirit. Yet the world
The envious world it selfe must justifie;
That howsoever Fortune yeelded up
The Scepter to my power; I did but kisse it
And offer'd it againe into her hand.
Enter Florentio, Velasco, and others.
Oniate.
My Lord, the Generall of Castile, Florentio.
Decast.
He's safely welcome. Now let each man keepe
At a due distance. I have here attended
Your Lordships presence.
Floren.
O my Lord! ar' we
Whom Love obleigeth to the same alleigance,
Brought hither on these termes?
Decast.
Th'are termes of honour.
And I yet never knew to frame excuse,
Where that begot the quarrell.
Floren.
Yet me thinkes
We might have found another way to it.
We might have sought out danger, where the proud
Insulting Moore, profaines our holy places.
The noise of Warre had beene no trouble then,
But now too much 'twill fright the gentle eare
Of her we both are vowed to serve.
Decastro.
That Love
Which armes us both, beares witnesse, that I had
Much rather have encounterd lightning; than
Create the least distraction to her peace.
But since the vote of Arragon decrees
That my long Service hath the justest claime
To challenge her regard; Thus I must stand
This vaine language
Scarce moves my pitty. What desert can rise
So high to merit her? Were each short moment
Oth' longest lived Commander lengthen'd to
An age, and that exposed to dangers mighty
As Cowards frame them; can you thinke his service
Might challenge her regard? Like th'heavenly bounty
She may distribute favour: But 'tis sinne
To say our merits may pretend a title.
Decastro.
You talke Sir like a Courtier.
Floren.
But my Lord
You'le find a souldier in this Arme: which strengthen'd
By such a cause, may levell mountaines high
As those the Giants (emblems of your thoughts)
Piled up to have scaled heaven.
Decastro.
That must be
Decided by the sword. And if my Lord
Our enterview hath no more sober end,
Than a dispute so froward; Let us make
The trumpet drowne the noise.
Floren.
You shall not want
That Musique. But before we yeelded up
Our reason unto fury; I desired
We might expostulate the ground of this
So fatall warre: and bring you to that low
Obedience Nature placed you in.
Decast.
My eare
Attends you.
Floren.
Where is then that humble zeale
You owe a Mistresse; if you can throw off
That duty which you owe her as your Queene?
What justice (that faire rule of humane actions)
Can you pretend for taking Armes?
Decastro.
Pray forward.
Floren.
Ile not denie (for from an enemie
Ile not detract) during her nonage, when
The publicke choyce, and her great fathers will,
Enthron'd you in the government; you manag'd
Affaires with prudence equall to the fame
You gain'd: And when your sword did fight her quarrell,
Twas crownd with victory.
Decast.
I thanke your memory.
Floren.
But hence ambition and ingratitude
You labor'd not t'advance her state or honour;
But subtly wrought upon the peoples love:
A love begot by errour, following still
Apparencie not truth.
Decast.
You conster fairely.
Floren.
The sunne is not more visible, when not
One cloud wrinckles the brow of heaven. For
On that false strength you had ith' multitude,
You swel'd to insolence: dared court your Queene:
Boasting your merit; like some wanton Tyrant
Ith' vanitie of a new conquest. And
When you perceiv'd her judgement did instruct her
To frowne on the attempt, profainely 'gainst
All Lawes of Love and Majestie, you made
The people in your quarrell seize upon
The Sacred person of the fairest Queene,
Story ere boasted.
Decast.
Have you done my Lord?
Floren.
Not yet. This injurie provok'd my master
To raise these mighty Forces for her rescue:
And named me Generall, whose ayme is not
A vaine ambition, but t'advance her service
Ere we begin to punish, take this offer:
Restore the Queene to liberty, with each
Due circumstance that such a Majestie
May challenge, freely to make choyce of whom
She shall advance to th'honour of her bed.
If your deserts beare that high rate you mention;
Why should you doubt your fortune? On these termes
The King, King of Castile may be induced
To pardon th'errour of your ruine.
Decast.
Thus
In short my answere. How unlimited
So ere my power hath beene, my reason and
My love hath circumscrib'd it. True, the Queene
Stands now restrain'd: But tis by the decree
Of the whole Kingdome, least her errour should
Perswade her to some man lesse worthy.
Floren.
How?
Decast.
Lesse worthy than my selfe. For so they judge
The proudest subject to a Forraigne Prince.
But when you mention love, where are your blushes?
What can you answere for the practising
You lay here from Castile; pretending onely
Affaires importing both the Kingdomes? Nor
Can you my Lord be taxt by your discretion,
That by the humblest Arts of Love, you labour
To win so bright a beauty, and a Queene
So potent. Your affection lookes not here,
Without an eye upon your profit.
Floren.
Witnesse Love.
Decast.
No protestation. If you will withdraw
Your Forces from our Kingdome, and permit
Us to our Lawes and Government; That peace
Which hath continued many ages Sacred,
Stands firme betweene us. But if not.
Floren.
To Arme.
Decast.
Pray stay my Lord. Doth not your Lordship see
Th'advantage I have in the place: with how
Much ease I may secure my fortune from
The greatest danger of your Forces?
Flo.
Ha!
Twas inconsiderate in me. But I trusted
To th'honour of your word, which youle not violate.
Decast.
Goe safely off my Lord. And now be dumbe;
All talke of peace: Wee'l parley in the drumme.
Exeunt severall all wayes, the Drumme beating.
| The Queene of Arragon | |