 | Monsieur D'Olive |  |
ACTVS QVINTI
Scæna prima.
Enter Uaumont, and Vandome.Vand.
Come my good Lord, now will I trie my Braine,
If it can forge another golden chaine,
To draw the poore Recluse, my honord mistris
From her darke Cell, and superstitious vow.
I oft haue heard there is a kind of cure
To fright a lingring Feuer from a man
By an imaginous feare, which may be true,
For one heate (all know) doth driue out another,
One passion doth expell another still,
And therefore I will vse a fainde deuice
To kindle furie in her frozen Breast,
That rage may fire out griefe, and so restore her
To her most sociable selfe againe.
Iuno Lucina fer opem,
And ease my labouring house of such a care.
Vand.
Marke but my Midwifery: the day is now
Some three houres old, and now her night begins:
Stand close my Lord, if she and her sad meany
Be toward sleepe, or sleeping, I will wake them
With orderly alarmes; Page? Boy? sister?
All toong-tied? all asleepe? page? sister?
Uau.
Alas Vandome, do not disturbe their rest
For pittie sake, tis yong night yet with them.
Uand.
My Lord, your onely way to deale with women
And Parrets, is to keepe them waking still.
Page? who's aboue? are you all dead here?
Dig.
S'light is hell broke loose? who's there?
He looks out with a light.
Vand.
A friend.
Dig.
Then know this Castle is the house of wo,
Here harbor none but two distressed Ladies
Condemn'd to darknesse, and this is their iayle,
And I the Giant set to guard the same:
My name is Dildo.
Retrahitse.
Vand.
Sirra leaue your rogerie, and hearken to me: what
Page, I say.
Dig.
Tempt not disasters: take thy life: Be gone.
Redit cum lumine.
Uau.
An excellent villanie.
Vand.
Sirra? I haue businesse of waight to impart to your
Ladie.
Dig.
If your businesse be of waight, let it waite till the after
noone, for by that time my Ladie will be deliuered of her first
sleepe: Be gone, for feare of watery meteors.
Vand.
Go to sir, leaue your villany, and dispatch this newes to
your Ladie.
Dig.
Is your businesse from your selfe, or from some body
besides?
Vand.
From no body besides my selfe.
Dig.
Very good: then Ile tel her, here's one besides himselfe
has businesse to her from no body.
Retrahit se.
Vau.
A perfect yong hempstring.
Van.
Peace least he ouerheare you.
Redit Dig.
You are not the Constable sir, are you?
Vand.
Will you dispatch sir? you know me well enough, I am
Vandome.
Eury.
Whats the matter? who's there? Brother Vandome.
Vand.
Sister?
Eury.
What tempest driues you hither at such an hower?
Vand.
VVhy I hope you are not going to bed, I see you are
not yet vnready: if euer you will deserue my loue, let it be now,
by calling forth my mistris, I haue newes for her, that touch her
nearely.
Eur.
VVhat ist good brother?
Van.
The worst of ils: would any tongue but mine had bene
the messenger.
Mar.
VVhats that seruant?
Van.
O Mistris come downe with all speed possible, and leaue
that mournfull cell of yours, Ile shew you another place worthy
of your mourning.
Mar.
Speake man, my heart is armed with a mourning habit
of such proofe, that there is none greater without it, to pierce it.
Vand.
If you please to come downe, Ile impart what I know:
if not, Ile leaue you.
Eury.
VVhy stand you so at gaze sister? go downe to him.
Stay bother, she comes to you.
Vand.
Twill take I doubt not, though her selfe be ice,
Theres one with her all fire, and to her spirit
I must apply my counterfeit deuice:
Stand close my Lord.
Uau.
I warrant you, proceed.
Vand.
Come silly mistris, where's your worthy Lord?
I know you know not, but too well I know.
Mar.
Now heauen graunt all be well.
Vand.
How can it be?
VVhile you poore Turtle sit and mourne at home,
Mewd in your cage, your mate he flies abroade,
O heauens who would haue thought him such a man?
Eury.
Why what man brother? I beleeue my speeches will
proue true of him.
Uand.
To wrong such a beautie, to prophane such vertue,
Eury.
Disloyall? nay nere gilde him ore with fine termes.
Brother, he is a filthy Lord, and euer was, I did euer say so, I neuer
knew any good ath haire, I do but wonder how you made
shift to loue him, or what you saw in him to entertaine but so
much as a peece of a good thought on him.
Mar.
Good sister forbeare.
Eury.
Tush sister, bid me not forbeare: a woman may beare,
and beare, and be neuer the better thought on neither: I would
you had neuer seene the eyes of him, for I know he neuer lou'd
you in's life.
Mar.
You wrong him sister, I am sure he lou'd me
As I lou'd him, and happie I had bene
Had I then dide, and shund this haplesse life.
Eury.
Nay let him die, and all such as as he is, he lay a catter-walling
not long since: O if it had bene the will of heauen, what
a deare blessing had the world had in his riddance?
Vand.
But had the lecher none to single out
For obiect of his light lasciuious blood,
But my poore cosin that attends the Dutchesse, Lady Ieronime?
Eury.
What, that blaberlipt blouse?
Uand.
Nay no blouse, sister, though I must confesse
She comes farre short of your perfection.
Eury.
Yes by my troth, if she were your cosin a thousand
times, shees but a sallow freckld face peece when she is at the
best.
Uand.
Yet spare my cosin, sister, for my sake,
She merits milder censure at your hands,
And euer held your worth in noblest termes.
Eury.
Faith the Gentlewoman is a sweete Gentlewoman of
her selfe, I must needs giue her her due.
Vand.
But for my Lord your husband, honor'd mistris,
He made your beauties and your vertues too,
But foyles to grace my cosins, had you seene
His amorous letters,
But my cosin presently will tell you all, for she reiects his sute,
yet I aduisde her to make a shew she did not. But point to
meet him when you might surprise him, and this is iust the houre.
Gods my life sister, loose not this aduantage, it wil be
a good Trumpe to lay in his way vpon any quarrell: Come, you
shall go: S'bodie will you suffer him to disgrace you in this sort?
dispraise your beautie? And I do not think too, but he has bin as
bold with your Honor, which aboue all earthly things should
be dearest to a woman.
Uand.
Next to her Beautie.
Eury.
True, next to her beautie: and I doe not thinke sister,
but hee deuiseth slaunders against you, euen in that high
kinde.
Vand.
Infinite, infinite.
Eury.
And I beleeue I take part with her too: would I knew
that yfaith.
Vand.
Make your account, your share's as deepe as hers:
when you see my cosin, sheele tell you all: weele to her presently.
Eury.
Has she told you, she would tell vs?
Vand.
Assurde me, on her oath.
Eury.
S'light I would but know what he can say: I pray you
brother tell me.
Vand.
To what end? twill but stirre your patience.
Eury.
No I protest: when I know my cariage to be such, as no
staine can obscure, his slaunders shall neuer moue me, yet would
I faine know what he faines.
Uan.
It fits not me to play the gossips part: weel to my cosin,
sheele relate all.
Eury.
S'light what can she say? pray let's haue a taste an't onward.
Vand.
What can be not say, who being drunke with lust, and
surfetting with desire of change, regards not what he sayes: and
briefly I will tell you thus much now; Let my melancholy Lady
(sayes he) hold on this course till she waste her selfe, and consume
my reuenew in Tapers, yet this is certaine, that as long as
she has that sister of hers at her elbow.
Eury.
Me? why me? I bid defiance to his foule throate.
Vaum.
Hold there Vandome, now it begins to take.
Eury.
What can his yellow iealousie surmise against me? if
you loue me, let me heare it: I protest it shall not moue me.
Marry forsooth, you are the shooing horne, he sayes, to
draw on, to draw on sister.
Eury.
The shooing horne with a vengeance? what's his meaning
in that?
Vand.
Nay I haue done, my cosin shall tell the rest: come shal
we go?
Eury.
Go? by heauen you bid me to a banquet: sister, resolue
your selfe, for you shall go; loose no more time, for you shall abroade
on my life: his licorice chaps are walking by this time:
but for heauens sweete hope what meanes he by that shooing
horne? As I liue it shall not moue me.
Vand.
Tell me but this, did you euer breake betwixt my mistris
and your sister here, and a certaine Lord ith Court?
Eury.
How? breake?
Vand.
Go to, you vnderstand me: haue not you a Petrarch in
Italian?
Eury.
Petrarch? yes, what of that?
Van.
Well, he sayes you can your good, you may be waiting
womā to any dame in Europe: that Petrarch does good offices.
Eury.
Marry hang him, good offices? S'foot how vnderstands
he that?
Vand.
As when any Lady is in priuate courtship with this or
that gallant, your Petrarch helpes to entertaine time: you vnderstand
his meaning?
Eury.
Sister if you resolue to go, so it is: for by heauen
your stay shall be no barre to me, Ile go, that's infallible: it had
bene as good he had slandered the diuell: shooing horne? O that
I were a man for's sake.
Vand
But to abuse your person and your beautie too: a grace
wherein this part of the world is happie: but I shall offend too
much.
Eury.
Not me, it shall neuer moue me.
Uand.
But to say, ye had a dull eye, a sharpe nose (the visible
markes of a shrow) a drie hand, which is a signe of a bad liuer, as
he said you were, being toward a husband too: this was intolerable.
Uaum.
This strikes it vp to the head.
Uand.
Indeed he said you drest your head in a pretie strange
meaning the Count of saint Anne I thinke.
Eury.
Gods precious, did he touch mine honor with him?
Vand.
Faith nothing but that he weares blacke, and sayes
tis his mistris colours: and yet he protests that in his eye your
face shewes well enough by candle light, for the Count neuer
saw it otherwise, vnlesse twere vnder a maske, which indeed he
sayes becomes you aboue all things.
Eury.
Come Page, go along with me, Ile stay for no body:
Tis at your cosins chamber, is it not?
Uand.
Marry is it, there you shall find him at it.
Eury.
That's enough: let my sister go waste his reuenew in
tapers, twill be her owne another day.
Mar.
Good sister, seruant, if euer there were any loue or respect
to me in you both.
Eury.
Sister? there is no loue, nor respect, nor any coniuration,
shall stay me: and yet by my part in heauen, Ile not be moued a
whit with him: you may retire your selfe to your old cell, and
there waste your eyes in teares, your heart in sighes, Ile away
certaine.
Uan.
But soft, let's agree first what course we shal take when
we take him.
Eury.
Marry euen raise the streetes on him, and bring him
forth with a flocke of boyes about him, to whoote at him.
Vand.
No, that were too great a dishonor: Ile put him out on's
paine presently.
Stringit ensem.
Pag.
Nay good sir spare his life, cut of the offending part, and
saue the Count.
Mar.
Is there no remedie? must I breake my vow?
Stay Ile abroad, though with another aime
Not to procure, but to preuent his shame.
Uan.
Go Page, march on, you know my cosins chamber,
My company may wrong you, I will crosse
The nearer way, and set the house afore you:
But sister see you be not mou'd for Gods sake.
Eury.
Not I by heauen: Come sister, be not moued,
But if you spare him, may heauen nere spare you.
Exeunt. man. Van. & Vau.
Vand.
So now the solemne votary is reuiu'd.
Pray heauen you haue not gone a step too farre,
And raisde more sprites, then you can coniure downe.
Vand.
No my Lord, no, t'Herculean labor's past,
The vow is broke, which was the end we sweat for,
The reconcilement will meet of it selfe:
Come lets to Court, and watch the Ladies chamber,
Where they are gone with hopefull spleene to see you.
Enter Roderique, Mugeron, D'oliue in disguise towards the Ladies chamber.
Rhod.
See Mugeron, our counterfait letter hath taken: who's
yonder think'st?
Mug.
Tis not Doliue:
Rhod.
Ift be not he, I am sure hee's not farre off:
Those be his tressels that support the motion.
Mug.
Tis he by heauen, wrapt in his carelesse cloke:
See the Duke enters: Let him enioy the benefite of the inchanted
Ring, and stand a while inuisible: at our best oportunitie
weele discouer him to the Duke.
Enter Duke, Dutchesse, Saint Anne, Vaumont, Uandome, to them Digue, whispering Vandome in the eare, and speakes as on the other side.
Dig.
Monsieur Vandome, yonders no Lord to be found: my
Ladie stayes at hand and craues your speech.
Vand.
Tell her she mistook the place, and conduct her hither:
How will she looke when she findes her expectation mockt
now?
Exit. Dig.
Vaum.
What's that, Uandome?
Uand.
Your wife and sister are comming hither, hoping to
take you and my cosin together.
Uau.
Alas, how shall we appease them, when they see themselues
so deluded?
Van.
Let me alone, and stand you off my Lord:
Enter Mar: and Eurione.
Madame, y'are welcome to the Court: doe you see your Lord
word, all I said was but a traine to draw you from your vow:
Nay, there's no going backe: Come forward and keepe your
temper. Sister, cloud not you your forhead: yonder's a Sunne
will cleare your beauties I am sure. Now you see the shooing-horne
is expounded: all was but a shooing-horne to
draw you hither: now shew your selues women, and say nothing.
Phil.
Let him alone awhile Uandome: who's there? what
whisper you?
Uand.
Y'aue done? come forward:
See here my Lord, my honorable mistris,
And her faire sister, whom your Highnesse knowes
Could neuer be importunde from their vowes
By prayer, or th'earnest sutes of any friends,
Now hearing false report that your faire Dutchesse
Was dangerously sicke, to visit her
Did that which no friend else could winne her to,
And brake her long kept vow with her repaire.
Duke.
Madam you do me an exceeding honor,
In shewing this true kindnesse to my Dutchesse,
Which she with all her kindnesse will requite.
Vand.
Now my good Lord, the motion you haue made,
To S. An.
With such kind importunitie by your selfe,
And seconded with all perswasions
On my poore part, for mariage of this Ladie,
Her selfe now comes to tell you she embraces,
And (with that promise made me) I present her.
Eury.
Sister, we must forgiue him.
S. An.
Matchlesse Ladie,
Your beauties and your vertues haue atchieu'd
An action that I thought impossible,
For all the sweete attractions of your sex,
In your conditions, so to life resembling
The grace and fashion of my other wife:
You haue reuiu'd her to my louing thoughts,
And all the honors I haue done to her,
Shall be continude (with increase) to you.
Now let's discouer our Ambassador, my Lord.
Duke.
Do so.
Exiturus D'oliue.
Mug.
My Lord? my Lord Ambassador?
D'ol.
My Lord foole, am I not?
Mug.
Go to, you are he: you cannot cloke your Lordshippe
from our knowledge.
Rho.
Come, come: could Achilles hide himselfe vnder a womans
clothes? Greatnesse will shine through clouds of any disguise.
Phil.
Who's that Rhoderique?
Rho.
Monsieur D'oliue, my Lord, stolne hither disguisde,
with what minde we know not.
Mug.
Neuer striue to be gone sir: my Lord, his habite expounds
his heart: twere good he were searcht.
D'oliue.
Well rookes wel, Ile be no longer a blocke to whet
your dull wits on: My Lord, my Lord, you wrong not your selfe
onely, but your whole state, to suffer such vlcers as these to gather
head in your Court; neuer looke to haue any action sort to your
honor, when you suffer such earewigs to creepe into your eares
thus.
Phil.
What's the matter Rhoderique?
Rho.
Alas my Lord, only the lightnesse of his braine, because
his hopes are lost.
Mug.
For our parts, we haue bene trustie and secret to him
in the whole manage of his ambassage.
D'ol.
Trustie? a plague on you both, there's as much trust in
a common whore as in one of you: and as for secrecy, there's no
more in you then in a profest Scriuener.
Vand.
Why a Scriuener, Monsieur D'oliue?
D'ol.
Marry sir a man cannot trust him with borrowing so
much as poore fortie shillings, but he will haue it Knowne to all
men by these presents.
Vand.
Thats true indeed, but you employed these gentlemen
very safely.
D'oliue.
Employed? I mary sir, they were the men that first
kindled this humor of employment in me: a pox of employment
I say: it has cost me, but what it has cost me, it skils not: they
haue thrust vpon me a crew of thredbare, vnbutton'd fellowes,
Pettifoggers, and I know not who I: S'light I thinke they haue
swept all the bowling allies ith citie for them: and a crew of
these, rakt like old ragges out of dunghils by candle light, haue
they presented to me in very good fashion, to be gentlemen of
my traine, and solde them hope of raising their fortunes by me:
A plague on that phrase, Raising of fortunes, it has vndone more
men then ten dicing houses: Raise their fortunes with a vengeance?
And a man will play the foole and be a Lord, or be a
foole and play the Lord, he shall be sure to want no followers,
so there be hope to raise their fortunes. A burning feuer light on
you, and all such followers. S'foote they say followers are but
shadowes, that follow their Lords no longer then the sun shines
on them: but I finde it not so: the sunne is set vpon my employment,
and yet I cannot shake off my shadowes; my followers
grow to my heeles like kibes, I cannot stir out of doores for am.
And your grace haue any employment for followers, pray entertaine
my companie: theyle spend their bloud in your seruice,
for they haue little else to spend, you may soone raise their fortunes.
Phil.
Well Monsieur D'oliue, your forwardnesse
In this intended seruice, shall well know
What acceptation it hath wonne it selfe
In our kind thoughts: nor let this sodaine change
Discourage the designements you haue laid
For our States good: reserue your selfe I pray,
Till fitter times: meane time will I secure you
From all your followers: follow vs to Court.
And good my Lords, and you my honor'd Ladies,
Be all made happie in the worthy knowledge
Of this our worthy friend Monsieur D'oliue.
Omnes.
Good Monsieur D'oliue.
Exeunt.
| Monsieur D'Olive | |