 | St. Patrick For Ireland |  |
Act. III.
Enter Rodamant.Rod.
Oh my Royall love! why should not I love the Queene?
I have knowne as simple a fellow as I hath been in love with her
horse, nay they ha been bedfellowes in the same litter, and in that
humour he would have been leap'd, if the beast could have been
provok'd to incontinencie; but what if the King should know ont,
and very lovingly circumcise me for it, or hang me up a gracious
spectacle with my tongue out a pearch for sparrowes? why, I
should become the gallowes o'my conscience: oh I would stretch
in so gentle posture, that the spectators all should edifie, and hang
by my example.
The Kings merry Bard, if he have overheard, hee'le save the hangman
a labour, and rime me to death.
Bar.
Rodamant, my halfe man, halfe gobling, all foole, how ist?
when didst thou see the devill.
Rod.
Alas, I never had the happinesse.
Bar.
Why then, thou art not acquainted with thy best friend.
One ride with a burning speare,
Upon an old witch with a pad,
For the devill a sore breech had.
With lightning, and thunder
And many more wonder.
His eyes indeed-law sir,
As wide as a sawcer.
Oh this would have made my boy mad.
An honest merry trout.
Bar.
Thou say'st right Gudgin, gape, and I'll throw in a bushell,
why does thy rose hang over thy mouth; as it would peep in, to
tell how many teeth thou hast?
Rod.
Excellent Bard. Oh brave Bard Ha Bard.
Bar.
Excellent fool! Oh fine foole, Ha foole.
Rod.
Prithee with what newes, and whither is thy head travelled?
Bar.
My head, and my feet goe one way, and both now at their
journeyes end. The newes is, that one Patricke a stranger, is invited
to court: this way he must come, and I like one of the Kings
wanton whelpes, have broke loose from the kennell, and come thus
afore to bark, and bid him welcome, the King and Queene will
meete him.
Rod.
Has the King invited him?
Bar.
What else man.
With the Lords, and Ladies so gay,
I tell you not a tricke, to meete the man Patricke:
Are all now trouping this way.
This man report sings, does many strange things:
Our Priests, and our Bards must give place.
He cares not a straw, for our sword or club-law.
Oh I long to behold his gay face.
Rod.
Prethee a word, thou didst name the Queene, Does she
come too?
Bar.
By any meanes.
Rod.
Well tis a good soule.
Bar.
Who?
Rod.
The Queene.
Bar.
The Queene ist? dost make but a soule o'her? treason, I
haue heard some foolish Philosophers affirme, that women have
no soules: 'twere well for some they had no bodies; but to make
no body of the Queene, is treason, if it be not fellony.
Rod.
Oh my royall love!
Bar.
Love, art thou in love Rodamant? nay then thou may'st
may ride cheeke by joll with a judge. But dost thou know what
love is, thou one of Cupids overgrowne monkies? Come, crack
me this nut of love, and take the maggot for thy labour.
Rod.
Preethee do thou say what 'tis.
Bar.
No, I will sing a piece of my minde, and love to thee.
Love is a clog, a great clog, a close clog.
'Tis a wildernesse to loose our selves,
A halter 'tis to nooze our selves.
Then draw Dun out o'th mire:
And throw the clog into the fire.
Keepe in the Kings high way,
And sober you cannot stray.
If thou admire no female else,
The halter may go hang it selfe.
Drink wine and be merry, for love is a folly:
And dwells in the house of mellancholly.
Rod.
'Tis such a merry baboone, and shootes quills like a Porcupine,
but who's this?
Enter St. Patrick, and his traine at one doore. At the other, the King, Queene, his sonnes and daughters, Milcho, Archimagus, and Priests.
Bar.
'Tis he, I know him by instinct.
Sings.
See how every thing doth smile:
To thy staffe and thy miter,
And Lawne that is whiter.
And every shaven crowne a welcome welcome to towne.
Looke where the King, and Queene doe greete thee:
His Princely sonnes are come to meete thee.
And see where a paire is, of very fine Faries.
Prepar'd too,
That thou may'st report, thy welcome to Court,
And the Bard too,
Pat.
I thank thee courteous Bard, thy heart is honest.
But to the King my dutie.
Kin.
Welcome Patrick,
For so thou cal'st thy self; we have throwne off
Our anger: and with calme, and melting eyes
Looke on thee. Thou hast piety, to forgive
Our former threats and language, and to satisfie.
For our deniall of some humble cottages,
Against the hospitable lawes of nature.
We give thee now our Palace, use it freely.
My selfe, our Queene and children, will be all
Thy guests: and owe our dwellings to thy favour.
There are some things of venerable mark
Upon thy brow, thou art some holy man,
Design'd by providence to make us happy:
Agen, most welcome to us.
Quee.
His aspect
Doth promise goodnes: Welcome.
Co.
To us all.
Pat.
If this be heartie, heaven will not permit
Your charities unrewarded.
Cor.
I am weary
Of these dull complements, Archimagus.
Arc.
I am prepar'd, I know your bloud's a longing,
To change embraces with Emeria.
Receive this, which worne upon your
Arme, is so by power of magicke fortified,
You shall goe where you please invisible,
Untill you take it off: Goe to your Mistres.
Cor.
Softly my deere Archimagus, the rest
Speake in a whisper, I shall be jealous of
The intelligencing aire.
Kin.
You may be confident
Our favour spreads to all. But where is Dichu
Your Convert? wee'l receive him to our grace too.
He durst not Sir, approach your royall presence.
And griefe for the sad fate of his two sonnes,
Hath made him weary of society:
Not farre off in a wood, he meanes to weare out
His life in prayer and pennance.
Arc.
How do you tast it?
Cor.
'Tis rare, and must succeede to my ambition.
Arc.
Loose no time time then.
Cor.
I fly, command me ever.
Exit Cori.
Kin.
I am not well o'th' suddaine.
Quee.
How? what ist
That doth offend the King?
Kin.
An evill conscience: Alas my children.
Con.
Father.
Arc.
Sir.
Eth.
Pray speake to us.
Kin.
How shall I
Win credit with this good man, that I have
Repented, for the bloud of Dichues sonnes?
Pat.
If you dissemble not with heaven, I can
Be easily gain'd Sir, to beleeve and pray for you.
Kin.
Some wine, it is the greatest ceremony
Of love with us, the seale of reconcilement.
Let some one bring us wine, I wo'not move,
Untill I drink to this blest man.
Arc.
Away.
Kin.
This place shall be remembred to posterity,
Where Leogarius first, shew'd himself friend
To holy Patrick. 'Tis religious thirst,
That will not let me expect, till more returne.
There is a streame of peace within my heart.
Arc.
Tis rarely counterfeited.
Con.
He is my father,
I should else tell him; Tis not like a King,
Thus to conspire a poore mans death. What thinks
Our royall mother? Is it just to take
Que.
What meanes my sonne?
Con.
Shall I betray the plot
Yet? and preserve him: see the wine.
Arc.
The wine
Attends you Sir.
Kin.
'Tis well, fill us a cheerefull cup: here Patrick,
We drink thy welcome to the Irish coasts.
Eth.
What does my father meane to doe with this
Dull thing? hee'le never make a courtier.
Fed.
His very lookes have turn'd my blood already.
Arc.
I'll spice his cup.
Kin.
Doo't strongly.
Que.
There's something within prompts me to pitty
This stranger.
Con.
Do you love wine Sir?
Pat.
If I did not,
I should presume against my nature once
To please the King that hath thus honoured us.
Con.
Do not, I say do not.
Arc.
Please you Sir?
Kin.
Come, to our Queene.
Rod.
My royall love, would I had the grace to drink to her or
kisse the cup.
Pat.
My dutie.
Arc.
Now observe Sir the change, he has it home.
Rod.
I cannot live, my heart wonot hold out.
Kin.
Forbeare, as you affect your life.
Qu.
How's this? now I suspect Conallus.
Pat.
I have one boone to ask your Majestie;
Since you look on us with this gracious smile:
That you would give my poore companions leave,
To build a little chappell in this place.
It shall be the first monument of your love;
To use our owne religion, the ground offers
Plenty of stone, the cost and paine be ours.
Not yet?
Pat.
'Twill bind us ever to pray for you.
Kin.
If it were violent, as thou say'st, it had
By this time gnawne to his bowels.
Pat.
Sir, you mind not
The humble suit I make.
Arc.
Not yet?
Pat.
Great Sir.
Kin.
It does not alter him, he rather lookes
With fresher bloud upon him.
Arc.
'Tis my wonder,
I did not trust another to prepare his cup.
Kin.
Come, 'tis not poyson, we are abus'd.
Arc.
Upon my life.
Pat.
The King is troubled.
Kin.
Prepare another.
Arc.
It shall be done.
Kin.
Come hither sirra, you brought this wine.
Rod.
I did, Sir.
Kin.
And you shall taste it.
Rod.
Would I were but worthy.
Kin.
I will have it so. Come, drink our health.
Rod.
May I remember your good Queenes.
Arc.
And he had the constitution of an Elephant
'Twould pay him.
Qu.
How cheere you, Sir.
Pat.
Well, Madam; but I observe
Distractions in the King.
Kin.
Nay, drink it off.
Rod.
And it were as deep as the root of Penmenmaure, my royall
Love should have it.
Kin.
Now we shall try the ingredients, it stirr'd
Not him, has he done't?
Rod.
So.
Arc.
Yes, and the change begins to shew already.
Rod.
Hoy ho—what's that?
Where?
Rod.
Here, here abouts, was the wine burnt? oh there's wildefire
in the wine.
Arc.
It workes on him.
Rod.
There's squibs and crackers in my stomacke; am not I
poyson'd?
Bar.
Poyson'd? we shall want a foole then.
Rod.
Away, I'll never drink agen.
Bar.
Not often, and thou beest poyson'd.
Rod.
It increases, my royall love has poison'd me, her health
has blowne my bowells up. Oh a cooler, would I were a while in
the frozen sea, charity is not cold enough to releeive me: the devill
is making fireworkes in my belly. Ha the Queene, let me but
speake to the Queene; Oh Madam, little do you think, that I have
poyson'd my self, Oh for your sweete sake. But howsoever; Oh
think upon me when I am dead. I bequeath my heart, Oh there 'tis
already: my royall love farewell.
Arc.
What thinke you now? it hath dispatch'd him raving.
Pat.
Madam, you shew a pious heart, I finde
My death was meant; but 'tis heavens goodnesse
I should not fall by poyson: do not loose
Your charity.
Bar.
Hee's dead.
Pat.
Pray let me see the fellow.
Kin.
It affrights me, this was some treason meant to us;
And thee good man: How I am innocent.
Pat.
How soone death would devoure him.
Arc.
Past your cure.
Pat.
That power we serve can call back life, and see,
He has a little motion.
Bar.
He breathes too, nay then he may live to have th'other
cup: Madam, this Patrick is a rare physition, if he stay with us,
hee'l make us all immortall.
Kin.
Alive agen? Oh let me honour thee.
Quee.
We cannot Sir enough;
Receive me Patrick,
Embrace thy faith: Make me a Christian.
Kin.
How? didst thou heare Archimagus, let some
Convey our Queene hence, her weak conscience melts;
Shee'l be a Christian she sayes: I hate her,
And do confine her to the house of Milcho
Our zealous Provost.
Pat.
'Tis the Kings pleasure Madam,
I should attend you hence.
Quee.
Where the King please.
Pat.
In any prison Madam, I dare visit you;
Be comforted, they do but fight with heaven.
Con.
I'll waite upon my mother.
Exeunt.
Kin.
Looke to my daughters,
Least this change worke on them.
Arc.
They are my charge.
Kin.
Be not dejected Patrick, we do meane
All good to thee: set forward, have a care
Of that poore fellow.
Pat.
I'll attend you Sir,
And trust to Providence we shall be safe.
Exeunt.
Bar.
How ist now Rodamant? dost thou remember thou wert
dead? Thou wert poyson'd.
Rod.
There is a kinde of grumbling in my guts still.
Bar.
Sings.
And we will drink it up joy, without any feare of—
Wine is injust that is taken on trust, if it tarry with us it fatts,
A cup boy, drink up joy, and let e'm go poyson ratts.
Enter Emeria.
Em.
What is it that doth sit so heavy on me?
Since Coribreus talk'd with me, I finde a dulnes in my braine; and
My eyes look as through a mist: which hangs upon my lids,
And weighes e'm downe. He frighted me to heare him,
He has a rugged and revengefull nature;
Not the sweet temper that his brother.
Say mine? indeed he is Master of my heart,
But something makes me feare I shall not be
So happy as I wish in his possession:
Yet we have vowes on both sides, holy ones,
And marriage promis'd. But I am too loude;
Yet not, my lodgings are remote and priva'st
Of all the Court: and I have dismist the servants,
None neere to reach my voice, then till this give
Accesse, I need not feare the silent chambers.
More cloudes doe gather 'bout my eyes, 'tis strange,
I am not us'd to be inclin'd to sleepe,
While the day shines; then take what nature offers
Emeria, and comply, it may discharge
Thy waking melancholly, so I feele
It gently slide upon my sences.
Enter Spirits before Coribreus habited gloriously, and representing Ceancrochi.
Cor.
So, so, this ammelet I finde secures me
From all observers, and I now am in
Her chamber, by a feate my Spirit did me:
Ha? She sleepes too, what a fine Bawd the devill is,
What opportunities he can frame to bring
These things to passe; I were best loose no time;
Madam, Madam, faire Emeria.
Eme.
Ha? who's that? was it a voice that cal'd me?
Or do I dreame? here's no body, this key
Made all without fast; yet I'll see.
Exit.
Cor.
I had
Forgot, shee'le never see me if I do not
Take off my charme, perhaps I may agen be visible
If I ha not lost my selfe.
Enter Emeria.
Eme.
The doores are fast.
Ha! Blesse me you Powers.
This musick is not frequent in my chambers;
'Tis here, I know not where, I can see nothing.
Emeria.
Eme.
Who ist that calls Emeria? goodnes ayde me!
Cor.
Put off thy fright Emeria, yet I blame not
Thy feeble sence to tremble at my presence:
Not us'd to mortall eyes, and unprepar'd.
But gather strength, and call thy blood agen
Whose seate a palenesse doth usurp: I am
Thy freind.
Eme.
But no acquaintance sure, what are you?
Cor.
Not what I seeme, I have assum'd this forme,
To tell thee what a happinesse is now
Coming from heaven upon thee.
Eme.
Vpon me?
Cor.
And when the sweete Emeria is collected,
Shee will loose her life agen in joy and wonder.
Eme.
My strength returnes, this is a gentle language,
And Spirit, if thou beest one; speake thy will.
Cor.
Then know Emeria, I am no mortall
But Ceancrochi, chiefe of all the gods
That now appeare.
Eme.
I know not what to answer
But with my humble knee.
Cor.
Thy pure devotion
Richer then cloudes of incense, Myrrhe, and Cassia,
And all the Gummes whose piles make sweete our Altar,
Hath been delightfull to the gods, and me,
And I have left the Palace of the blest,
Where many glorious virgins waite: and want thee,
A fellow singer in their heavenly quire,
To visit in this forme the faire Emeria,
And thank thee for thy pious sacrifices:
Rise then and be confirm'd, we meane to honour
Thy person and thy vertues.
Em.
Can this roofe
Be so much blest? and can so great a deity
Consider my imperfect dutie thus?
To assure thy thoughts, ask fairest virgin, what
Thou most desirest, and it shall firmer, than
The Destinies, be made thine owne: hast thou
A wish to this worlds glorie, to be greater?
Would'st thou enlarge thy knowledge, or thy pleasure?
Do'st thou affect to have thy life extended,
Double the course of Nature; or thy beautie
Above the malice of disease, or time
To wither? Would'st thou see thy booke of fate,
And read the various lines that fall into
Thy life, as to their center: speake, and be
Possest; if thou refuse what here is nam'd,
Thy wish will come too late, Emeria?
Em.
None of all these; let me be still accepted
An humble servant to the gods.
Cor.
Then I
Will find some other way to thy reward:
First, we release that dutie of thy knee;
Reach thy faire hand.
Em.
I dare not.
Cor.
Doe not tremble,
It shall but meet another like thine owne;
For I had care not to affright my virgin:
What do'st thou see in me, that to thy sense
Appeares not man? Divinitie is too bright
For thy weake eye, and therefore I have clad
In this no threatning shape, all that is divine:
That I with safetie of thy sence, Emeria,
Might visit thee: come, I will see thee often,
If thou be wise to understand how much
It is my will to honour thee; and I
Will thus descend, and leave my beames behind,
Whose brightnesse were enough to burne thee,
To converse with thee in a loving way
Of smiling thus, and thus embracing thee—
Of mixing palmes, nay I will kisse thee too.
Doe our gods practise this?
Cor.
Not, but with those
They meane especiall grace to, such as they know must hereafter
shine above with them, though meerly mortals, are ador'd; and
seldome visit the world, hid thus in flesh and bloud, which wee at
pleasure can assume, and have desires like you, and have our passions
too, can love, I, and enjoy where wee will place the happinesse,
else we had lesse than men.
Em.
I thought the powers above had beene all honest.
Cor.
'Tis in them chastitie, nor is it sin
In those we love to meet wit active flames,
And be glad mothers to immortall issues:
How oft hath Jove, who justly is ador'd,
Left heaven, to practise love with such a faire one?
The Sun, for one embrace of Daphne, would
Have pawn'd his beames: not one, but hath sometimes
Descended, to make fruitfull weake Mortalitie.
Oh, if thou could'st but reach, Emeria,
With thy imagination, what delight,
What flowing extasies of joy we bring
Your sex, made nice and cold by winter lawes
Of man, that freeze the bloud, thou wood'st be fond
To my embraces, and petition me
To blesse thee with a rape, yet I woe thy
Consent.
Em.
Away:
Thou art no god sure, but
Some vicious Impostor: Can a Deitie
Breath so much impious language, and reward
Vertue with shame?
Cor.
Take heed, and doe not vaine
Thy selfe by rash and froward opposition;
Know, I can make thee nothing, at a breath.
Em.
Better be so, than made so foule a being.
Cor.
Nay then, what should have beene with thy consent a
blessing, shall now only serve my pleasure, and I will take the forfeit
of thy coldnesse.
Oh help, some man, I dare not call upon the gods; for they
are wicked growne, oh help.
Cor.
I shall need none, thou thing of disobedience, thou art now
within my power of love, or furie: yeeld, or I'll force thee into postures
shall make pleasure weep, and hurle thee into wantonnesse.
He carries her in. The Devils rejoycing in a dance conclude the Act.
| St. Patrick For Ireland | |