 | Monsieur D'Olive |  |
ACTVS PRIMI.
Scæna Prima.
VANDOME with seruants and saylors laden, VAVMONT, another waywalking.Vand.
Conuey your carriage to my brother in Lawes,
Th'Earle of Saint Anne, to whome and to my Sister,
Commend my humble seruice, tell them both
Of my arriuall, and intent t'attend them:
When in my way, I haue performd fit duties,
To Count Vaumont, and his most honoured Countesse.
Ser.
We will Syr, this way, follow honest Saylors.
Exeunt Seruants.
Uand.
Our first obseruance, after any absence
Must be presented euer to our Mistresse:
As at our parting she should still be last,
Hinc Amor vt circulus, from hence tis said
That loue is like a circle, being th'efficient
And end of all our actions; which excited
By no worse abiect then my matchlesse mistresse
Were worthy to employ vs to that likenesse;
And be the onely Ring our powers should beate,
Noble she is by birth, made good by vertue,
Exceeding faire, and her behauiour to it,
Is like a singular Musitian
To a sweete Instrument, or else as doctrine
Is to the soule, that puts it into Act,
Without which twere an emptie, idle flame
Her eminent iudgement to dispose these parts,
Sits on her browe and holds a siluer Scepter,
with which she keepes time to the seuerall musiques,
Plac't in the sacred consort of her beauties:
Loues compleat armorie is managde in her.
To stirre affection, and the discipline
To checke and to affright it from attempting
Any attaint might disproportion her,
Or make her graces lesse then circular;
Yet her euen carriage, is as farre from coynesse
As from Immodestie, in play, in dancing,
In suffering court-ship: in requiting kindnesse.
In vse of places, houres, and companies
Free as the Sunne, and nothing more corrupted,
As circumspect as Cynthia, in her vowes,
And constant as the Center to obserue them,
Ruthfull, and bountious neuer fierce nor dull,
In all her courses euer at the full.
These three yeares, I haue trauaild, and so long
Haue beene in trauaile with her dearest sight,
Which now shall beautifie the enamour'd light.
This is her house, what? the gates shut and cleere
Of all attendants? Why, the house was wont
To hold the vsuall concourse of a Court,
And see, me thinks through the encourtaind windowes
(In this high time of day) I see light Tapers,
This is exceeding strange. Behold the Earle
Walking in as strange sort before the dore,
Ile know this wonder sure: My honoured Lord?
Vau.
Keepe of Sir and beware whom you embrace,
Uand.
Why flyes your Lordship back?
Uau.
You should be sure
To knowe a man your friend ere you embrac't him.
Uand.
I hope my knowledge cannot be more sure
Then of your Lordships friendship.
No mans knowledge
Can make him sure of any thing without him,
Or not within his power to keepe, or order.
Vand.
I comprehend not this; and wonder much
To see my most lou'd Lord so much estrang'd.
Vau.
The truth is, I haue done your knowne deserts
More wrong, then with your right should let you greet me
And in your absence, which makes worse the wrong,
And in your honour, which still makes it worse.
Vand.
If this be all my Lord, the discontent
You seeme to entertaine, is meerly causlesse:
Your free confession, and the manner of it,
Doth liberally excuse what wrong soeuer
Your mis-conceit could make you lay on me.
And therefore, good my Lord discouer it,
That we may take the spleene and corsey from it.
Vau.
Then heare a strange report and reason, why
I did you this repented iniurie.
You know my wife is by the rights of courtship,
Your chosen Mistresse, and she not disposde
(As other Ladies are) to entertaine
Peculiar termes, with common acts of kindnesse:
But (knowing in her, more then womens iudgement,
That she should nothing wrong her husbands right,
To vse a friend onely for vertue, chosen
With all the rights of friendship) tooke such care
After the solemne parting to your trauaile,
And spake of you with such exceeding passion,
That I grew iealous, and with rage excepted
Against her kindnesse, vtterly forgetting
I should haue waied so rare a womans words,
As duties of a free and friendly iustice:
Not as the head-strong and incontinent vapors
Of other Ladies bloods, enflamed with lust,
Wherein I iniured both your innocencies,
Which I approue, not out of flexible dotage,
But in impartiall equitie, made apparant
Both by mine owne well-waid comparison
Of all her other manifest perfections,
With this one onely doubtfull leuitie,
And likewise by her violent apprehension
Of her deepe wrong and yours, for she hath vowde,
Neuer to let the common Pandresse light,
(Or any doome as vulgar) censure her
In any action she leaues subiect to them,
Neuer to fit the day with her attire,
Nor grace it with her presence; Nourish in it,
(Vnlesse with sleepe) nor stir out of her chamber:
And so hath muffled and mewd vp her beauties
In neuer-ceasing darkenesse, Neuer sleeping,
But in the day transform'd by her to night:
With all Sunne banisht from her smootherd graces:
And thus my deare and most vnmatched wife,
That was a comfort and a grace to me,
In euery iudgement, euery companie,
I, by false Iealousie, haue no lesse then lost,
Murtherd her liuing, and emtoomd her quicke.
Vand.
Conceit it not so deepely, good my Lord,
Your wrong to me or her, was no fit ground
To beare so waightie and resolu'd a vowe,
From her incensed and abused vertues.
Uau.
There could not be a more important cause,
To fill her with a ceaslesse hate of light,
To see it grace grose lightnesse with full beames,
And frowne on continence with her oblique glances.
As nothing equalls, right to vertue done,
So is her wrong past all comparison.
Vand.
Vertue is not malitious, wrong done her
Is righted euer when men grant they Erre,
But doth my princely mistresse so contemne
The glorie of her beauties, and the applause
To let a voluntarie vowe obscure them;
Uau.
See all her windowes, and her doores made fast,
And in her Chamber lights for night enflam'd,
Now others rise, she takes her to her bed.
Uand.
This newes is strange, heauen grant I be encounterd
With better tydings of my other friendes,
Let me be bold my Lord t'enquire the state
Of my deare sister, in whose selfe and me,
Surviues the whole hope of our familie,
Together with her deare and princely husband
Th'Earle of Saint Anne.
Uau.
Vnhappie that I am,
I would to heauen your most welcome steppes
Had brought you first vpon some other friend,
To be the sad Relator of the changes
Chanc't your three yeares most lamented absence,
Your worthy sister, worthier farre of heauen
Then this vnworthy hell of passionate Earth,
Is taken vp amongst her fellow Starres.
Uand.
Vnhappie man that euer I returnd
And perisht not ere these newes pierst mine eares.
Vau.
Nay be not you that teach men comfort, grieued,
I know your iudgement will set willing shoulders
To the knowne burthens of necessitie:
And teach your wilfull brother patience,
Who striues with death, and from his caues of rest
Retaines his wiues dead Corse amongst the liuing,
For with the rich sweetes of restoring Balmes,
He keepes her lookes as fresh as if she liu'd,
And in his chamber (as in life attirde)
She in a Chaire sits leaning on her arme,
As if she onely slept: and at her feete
He like a mortified hermit clad,
Sits weeping out his life, as hauing lost
All his lifes comfort: And that she being dead
As in an Apoplexy strooke with death.
Nor can the Duke nor Dutchesse comfort him,
Nor messengers with consolatory letters,
From the kinde King of France, who is allyed
To her and you. But to lift all his thoughts
Vp to another world, where she expects him,
He feedes his eares with soule-exciting musicke.
Solemne and Tragicall, and so Resolues
In those sadde accents to exhale his soule.
Uan.
O what a second Ruthles Sea of woes
Wracks mee within my Hauen, and on the Shore?
What shall I doe? mourne, mourne, with them that mourne,
And make my greater woes their lesse expell,
This day Ile consecrate to sighes and teares,
And this next Euen, which is my mistresse morning
Ile greete her, wondring at her wilfull humours,
And with rebukes, breaking out of my Loue,
And duetie to her honour, make her see
How much her too much curious vertue wrongs her.
Vau.
Sayd like the man the world hath euer held you,
Welcome, as new liues to vs, our good. Now
Shall wholly be ascrib'de and trust to you.
Exeunt.
Enter Rhoderique and Mugeron.
Mug.
See, see, the vertuous Countesse hath bidden our day
Good night, her starres are now visible: when was any Ladie
seene to be so constant in her vowe, and able to
forbeare the society of men so sincerely?
Rho.
Neuer in this world, at least exceeding seldome.
What shame it is for men to see women so farre surpasse
them: for when was any man knowne (out of iudgement) to
performe so staied an abstinēce, from the society of women.
Mug.
Neuer in this world.
What an excellent Creature an honest
woman is? I warrant you the Countesse, and her
Virgine sister, spend all their times in Contemplation,
watching to see the sacred Spectacles of the night, when
other Ladies lye drownd in sleepe or sensualitie, Ist not
so think'st?
Mug.
No question.
Rhoderic.
Come, come, lets forget we are Courtiers,
and talke like honest men, tell truth, and shame all trauaylers
and tradesmen: Thou beleeu'st alls naturall beautie
that shewes faire, though the Painter enforce it, and sufferst
in soule I know for the honorable Ladie.
Mug.
Can any heart of Adamant not yeeld in compassion
to see spotlesse Innocencie suffer such bitter pennance?
Rhoder.
A very fitte stocke to graffe on: Tush man
thinke what she is, thinke where she liues, thinke on the
villanous cunning of these times, Indeed did we liue now
in old Saturnes time: when women had no other art, than
what Nature taught am (and yet there needes little Art I
wisse to teach a woman to dissemble) when Luxurie was
vnborne, at least vntaught, the art to steale from a forbidden
tree: when Coaches, when Perwigges, and painting,
when Maskes, and Masking: in a word when Court and
Courting was vnknowne, an easie mist might then perhappes
haue wrought vpon my sence as it does now on the
poore Countesse and thine.
Mug.
O world!
Rho.
O flesh!
Mug.
O Diuell!
Rhod.
I tell thee Mugeron, the Flesh is growne so
great with the Diuell, as theres but a little Honestie left
ith world. That, that is, is in Lawyers; they ingrosse
all: S'foote what gaue the first fire to the Counts Iealousie?
What but his misconstruction of her honourable
affection to Uandome.
Rho.
Honourable affection? first shees an ill huswife
of her honour, that puts it vpon construction: but the
presumption was violent against her, no speeche but of
Vandome, no thought but of his memorie, no myrth but in
his companie, besides the free entercourse of Letters, Fauours,
and other entertainments, too too manifest signes
that her heart went hand in hand with her tongue.
Mug.
Why, was shee not his mistresse?
Rhod.
I, I, a Court tearme, for I wotte what, slight
Vandome the Stallion of the Court, her deuoted Seruant,
and forsoothe loues her honourablie: Tush, hees a foole
that beleeues it: for my part I loue to offende in the better
part still, and that is, to iudge charitablie: But now forsoothe
to redeeme her Honour, shee must by a laborious
and violent kinde of Purgation, Rubbe off the Skinne, to
wash out the spotte, Turne her Chamber to a Cell, the
Sunne into a Taper, And (as if shee liu'd in another
worlde amongst the Antipodes,) make our night her day,
and our day her night, that vnder this curtaine, shee may
laye his iealousie a sleepe, whiles shee turnes poore Argus
to Acteon, and makes his Sheets common to her Seruaunt
Vandome.
Mug.
Uandome? Why hee was mette i'th streete
but euen now, newly arriv'd after three yeares trauaile.
Rhod.
Newely arriv'd? hee has beene arriv'd this
twelue-month, and has euer since lyne close in his mistresse
cunning darkenesse, at her seruice.
Mug.
Fye a the Deuill, who will not enuie slaunder?
O the miserable condition of her Sexe: borne to liue vnder
all construction. If shee be courteous, shees thought
to be wanton: if shee be kinde, shees too willing: if coye,
too wilfull: if shee be modest: shees a clowne, if shee bee
honest, shees a foole: And so is hee.
Rhod.
What Monsieur D'oliue, the onely admyrer
of wit and good words.
D'ol.
Morrowe wits, morrowe good wits: my little
parcell of wit, I haue Roddes in pisse for you; how doest
Iacke, may I call thee Syr Iack yet?
Mug.
You may Syr: Syrs as commendable an addition
as Iacke, for ought I knowe.
D'ol.
I know it Iacke, and as common too.
Rho.
Go too, you may couer; wee haue taken notice
of your embroydered Beuer:
D'ol.
Looke you: by Heauen tha'art one of the maddest
bitter slaues in Europe, I doe but wonder how I made
shifte to loue thee all this while.
Rho.
Go too what might such a parcell guilt couer be
worth?
Mug.
Perhappes more then the whole peece besides.
D'ol.
Good yfaith, but bytter, O you madde slaues, I
thinke you had Satyres, to your syres, yet I must loue you,
I must take pleasure in you, and yfaith tell mee, how ist?
liue I see you doe, but how? but how? witts?
Rho.
Faith as you see, like poore younger Brothers.
D'ol.
By your wittes?
Mug.
Nay not turnd Poets neither.
D'ol.
Good soothe: but indeede to say truth, Time was
when the sonnes of the Muses had the priuiledge to liue onlie
by their wits, but times are altered, Monopolies are nowe
calld in, & wits become a free trade for all sorts to liue by,
Lawyers liue by wit and they liue worshipfully: Souldiers
liue by wit, and they liue honourably: Panders liue by wit,
and they liue honestlie. In a word there are fewe trades but
liue by wit, onely bawdes and Midwifes liue by Womens
labours, as Fooles and Fidlers do by making myrth, Pages
and Parasits by making legges: Paynters and Players by
Rho:
Faith thou followest a figure in thy iests, as counttey
Gentlemen followe fashions when they bee worne
threed-bare.
D'ol.
Well, well, lets leaue these wit skirmishes, and say
when shall we meete?
Mug.
How thinke you, are we not met now?
D'ol.
Tush man, I meane at my chamber, where we
may take free vse of our selues, that is, drinke Sacke, and
talke Satyre, and let our wits runne the wilde Goose chase
ouer Court and Countrey, I will haue my chamber the
Rende-vous of all good wits, the shoppe of good wordes,
the Mint of good iestes, an Ordinary of fine discourse,
Critickes, Essayists, Linguists, Poets, and other professors
of that facultie of wit, shall at certaine houres ith day resort
thither, it shall be a second Sorbonne, where all doubts or
differences of Learning, Honour, Duellisme, Criticisme,
and Poetrie shall be disputed: and how wits, do ye follow
the Court still?
Rhod.
Close at heeles sir, and I can tell you, you haue
much to aunswere for your starres, that you doe not
so too.
D'ol.
As why wits? as why?
Rhod.
VVhy sir, the Court's as twere the stage: and
they that haue a good suite of parts and qualities, ought
to presse thither to grace them, and receiue their due merite.
Dol.
Tush, let the Court follow me: he that soares too
neare the sunne, melts his wings many times: as I am, I possesse
my selfe, I enioy my libertie, my learning, my wit, as for
wealth and honor let am go, Ile not loose my learning to be
a Lord, nor my wit to be an Alderman.
Mug.
Admirable D'oliue.
Dol.
And what! you stand gazing at this Comet here,
and admire it, I dare say.
Rhod.
And do not you?
D'ol.
Not I, I admire nothing but wit.
But I wonder how she entertaines time in that solitarie
Cell; does she not take Tabacco thinke you?
D'ol.
She does, she does: others make it their Physicke,
she makes it her foode: her sister and she take it my turne,
first one, then the other, and Vandome ministers to them
both.
Mug.
How sayest thou by that Helene of Greece, the
Countesses sister, there were a Paragon Monsieur D'oliue, to
admire and marrie too.
D'ol.
Not for me.
Rhod.
No, what acceptions lies against the choise.
D'ol.
Tush, tell me not of choise, if I stood affected that
way, I would chuse my wife as men do Valentines, blindfold,
or draw cuts for them, for so I shall be sure not to be deceiued
in choosing: for take this of me, there's ten times
more deceipt in women then in Horse-flesh: and I say still,
that a prettie, well pac'd Chambermaid is the only fashion,
if she grow full or fulsome, giue her but six pence, to buy her
a handbasket, and send her the way of all flesh, theres no
more but so.
Mug.
Indeed thats the sauingst way.
D'ol.
O me! what a hell tis for a man to be tied to the
continuall charge of a Coach, with the appurtenances,
horse, men, and so forth; and then to haue a mans house
pestered with a whole countrey of Guests, Groomes, Panders,
wayting maides? &c. I carefull to please my wife,
she carelesse to displease me, shrewish if she be honest,
intolerable if shee be wise, imperious as an Emperesse,
all she does must be law, all shee sayes Gospell: O what
a pennance tis to endure her, I glad to forbeare still, all to
keepe her loyall, and yet perhappes when all's done, my
heyre shall be like my Horse-keeper: Fie on't, the very
thought of marriage were able to coole the hottest liuer in
France.
Rhod.
VVell, I durst venture twice the price of your
guilt Connies wooll, we shall haue you change your coppy
ere a twelue moneths day.
We must haue you dubd ath order thers no remedie,
you that haue vnmarryed, done such honourable
seruice in the common-wealth, must needes receyue the
honour due t'oot in marriage.
Rho.
That hee may doe, and neuer marrie.
D'ol.
As how wits, yfaith as how?
Rho.
For if hee can prooue his father was free ath order,
and that hee was his fathers sonne, then by the laudable
custome of the Cittie, hee may bee a cuckold by his fathers
coppie, and neuer serue fort.
D'ol.
Euer good yfaith:
Mug.
Nay howe can hee pleade that, when t'is as well
knowne his father dyed a batcheler.
D'ol.
Bitter, in verity, bitter. But good still in it kinde.
Rho.
Goe too, we must haue you follow the lanthorne
of your forefathers.
Mug.
His forefathers? S'body had hee more fathers
then one.
D'ol.
Why this is right: heers wit canuast out ans
coate, into's Iacket: the string sounds euer well, that
rubs not too much ath frets: I must loue your Wits, I
must take pleasure in you. Farewell good wits: you know
my lodging, make an Errand thether now and than, and
saue your ordinarie, doe wits, doe.
Mug.
Wee shall be troublesome tee.
D'ol.
O God Syr, you wrong mee, to thinke I can,
bee troubled with wit, I loue a good wit, as I loue my
selfe, if you neede a brace or two of Crownes at any time
Addresse but your Sonnet, it shall bee as sufficient as your
bonde at all times, I carrie halfe a score byrdes in a Cage,
shall euer remaine at your call: Farewell wits, farewell
good wits.
Exit.
Farewell the true mappe of a gull: by Heauen
hee shall too'th Court: t'is the perfect model of an impudent
vpstart: the compound of a Poet, and a Lawyer,
hee shall sure too'th Court.
Mug.
Naye for Gods sake, letts haue no fooles at
Court.
Rho.
Hee shall too't thats certaine, the Duke had a
purpose to dispatch some one or other to the French King,
to entreat him to send for the bodie of his Neece, which the
melancoly Earle of Saint Anne, her husband hath kept so
long vnburied, as meaning one graue should entombe
himselfe and her together.
Mug.
A very worthy subiect for an Ambassage, as
D'oliue is for an Ambassador Agent, and t'is as sutable to
his braine, as his parcell guilt Beuer to his fooles head.
Rho.
Well it shall goe hard but hee shall bee employd,
O tis a most accomplisht asse, the mugrill of a Gull, and a
villaine, the very essence of his soule is pure villany: The
substance of his braine-foolery: one that beleeues nothing
from the starres vpward. A Pagan in beleefe, an Epicure
beyond beleefe, Prodigious in lust, Prodigall in wastfull
expence, in necessary most penurious, his wit is to admire
and imitate, his grace is to censure, and detract; he shall
to'th Court, yfaith hee shall thither, I will shape such employement
for him, as that hee himselfe shall haue no lesse
contentment, in making myrth to the whole Court, then
the Duke and the whole Court shall haue pleasure in enioying
his presence. A knaue if hee be riche, is fit to make
an Officer, As a Foole if hee bee a knaue is fit to make
an Intelligencer.
Exeunt.
| Monsieur D'Olive | |