 | A Pleasant Comedy, Called :The Case is Altered |  |
Actus 3.
Scæne 1.
Enter Maximilian, with souldiers Chamount, Camilla, Ferneze, Pacue.Max.
Lord Chamount and your valient friend there. I cannot
say welcome to Millaine: your thoughts and that word are
not musicall, but I can say you are come to Millaine:
Pac.
Mort diew.
Cha.
Gar soone.
Max.
Gentlemen (I would cal an Emperour so) you are now
my prisoners, I am sorry, marry this, spit in the face of your
fortunes, for your vsage shall be honorable.
Cam.
Wee know it signior Maximilian,
The fame of al your actions sounds nought else,
But perfect honour from her swelling cheeks.
Max.
It shall do so still I assure you, and I will giue you reason,
there is in this last action (you know) a noble gentleman of
our party, & a right valient; semblably prisoner to your general,
as your honor'd selfe's to me, for whose safety, this tongue
hath giuen warrant to his honorable father, the Count Ferneze.
You conceiue me.
Cam.
I signior.
Max.
Well? then I must tell you your ransomes be to redeeme
him, what thinke you? your answer.
Cam.
Marry with my Lords leaue here I say signior,
This free & ample offer you haue made,
Agrees well with your honour, but not ours:
For I thinke not, but Chamount is aswell borne
As is Ferneze, then if I mistake not,
He scornes to haue his worth so vnderprised,
That it should neede an adiunct, in exchange,
Of any equall fortune. Noble Signior?
I am a souldier, and I loue Chamount,
Ere I would bruse his estimation,
With the least ruine of mine owne respect,
In this vild kind, these legs should rot with irons,
Dropt from my bones in flakes, like withered leaues,
In heart of Autumne, from a stubborne Oke.
Maxi.
Mounsieur Gasper (I take it so is your name) misprise
me not, I will trample on the hart, on the soule of him that
shall say, I will wrong you: what I purpose, you cannot now
know; but you shall know, and doubt not to your contentment.
Lord Chamount, I will leaue you, whilest I go in and
present my selfe to the honorable Count, till my regression so
please you, your noble feete may measure this priuate, pleasant
and most princely walke, Souldiers regard them and respect
them.
Pac.
O Ver bon: excellenta gull, he tak'a my Lord Chamount
for Mounsieur Gaspra, & Mounsieur Gaspra for my Lord Chamont,
ô dis be braue for make a me laugh'a, ha, ha, ha, ô my
heart tickla.
Cam.
I but your Lordship knowes not what hard fate
Might haue pursued vs, therefore howsoere
The changing of our names was necessary
And we must now be carefull to maintaine
This error strongly, which our owne deuise,
Hath thrust into their ignorant conceits,
For should we (on the taste of this good fortune)
Appeare our selues, t'would both create in them
A kinde of iealousie, and perchaunce inuert
Those honourable courses they intend.
Cha.
True my deere Gasper: but this hangby here,
Will (at one time or other) on my soule
Discouer vs: A secret in his mouth
Is like a wild bird put into a cage,
Whose doore no sooner opens, but tis out.
But sirra, if I may but know
Thou vtterst it
Pac.
Vtteria? vat Mounsieur?
Cha.
That he is Gasper, and I true Chamount.
Pac.
O pardons moy, fore my tongue shall put out de secreta,
Count.
Speake not so loud Pacue.
Pac.
Foe, you shall not heare foole, for all your long eare,
Reguard Mounsieur: you be de Chamont, Chamont be Gaspra.
Enter Count Ferneze, Maximilian, Francesco, Aurelia, Phœnixella, Finio.
Cha.
Peace, here comes Maximilian.
Cam.
O belike that's the Count Ferneze, that old man.
Cha.
Are those his daughters, trow?
Cam.
I sure, I thinke they are.
Cha.
Fore God the taller is a gallant Lady.
Cam.
So are they both beleeue me.
Max.
True my honorable Lord, that Chamont was the father
of this man.
Count.
O that may be, for when I lost my sonne,
This was but yong it seemes.
Fran.
Faith had Camillo liued,
He had beene much about his yeares, my Lord.
Count.
He had indeed, well, speake no more of him.
Max.
Signior perceiue you the errour? twas no good office
in vs to stretch the remembrance of so deere a losse. Count
Ferneze, let sommer sit in your eye, looke cheerefully sweete
Count, will you do me the honour to confine this noble spirit
within the circle of your armes?
Count.
Honor'd Chamont reach me your valiant hand,
I could haue wisht some happier accident,
Had made the way vnto this mutuall knowledge,
Which either of vs now must take of other,
But sure it is the pleasure of our fates,
That we should thus be wrack't on Fortunes wheele,
Let vs prepare with steeled patience
To tread on torment, and with mindes confirm'd
Max.
Noble Lord, tis thus. I haue here (in mine honour)
set this gentleman free, without ransome, he is now himselfe,
his valour hath deseru'd it, in the eye of my iudgement. Mounasieur
Gasper you are deere to me: fortuna non mutuat genus.
But to the maine, if it may square with your Lordships liking,
and his loue, I could desire that he were now instantly
imployed to your noble Generall in the exchange of Ferneze
for your selfe, it is the businesse that requires the tender
hand of a friend.
Count.
I, and it would be with more speed effected,
If he would vndertake it.
Max.
True my Lord. Mounsieur Gasper, how stand you
affected to this motion?
Cha.
My duty must attend his Lordships will.
Max.
What sayes the Lord Chamont?
Cam.
My will doth then approue what these haue vrg'd.
Max.
Why there is good harmony, good musicke in this:
Mounsieur Gasper, you shall protract no time, onely I will
giue you a bowle of rich wine to the health of your Generall,
another to the successe of your iourney, and a third to the
loue of my sword. Passe.
Exeunt all but Aurelia and Phœnixella.
Aure.
Why how now sister in a motley muse?
Go to, thers somewhat in the wind, I see.
Faith this browne study suites not with your blacke,
Your habit and your thoughts are of two colours.
Phœn.
Good faith me thinkes that this young Lord Chamont
fauours my mother, sister, does he not?
Aure.
A mothelry conceite, ô blind excuse,
Blinder then loue himselfe. Well sister, well.
Cupid hath tane his stand in both your eyes, The case is alterd.
Phœn.
And what of that?
Aure.
Nay nothing but a Saint.
Would put downe Vesta, in whose lookes doth swim,
The very sweetest creame of modesty.
You to turne tippet? fie, fie, will you giue
A packing penny to Virginity.
I thought youl'd dwell so long in Cypres Ile,
You'd worship Maddam Venus at the length;
But come, the strongest fall, and why not you?
Nay, do not frowne.
Phœn.
Go, go, you foole. Adiew.
Exit.
Aure.
Well I may iest, or so: but Cupid knowes
My taking is as bad, or worse then hers.
O Mounsieur Gasper? if thou bee'st a man,
Be not affraid to court me, do but speake,
Challenge thy right and weare it: for I sweare
Till thou arriud'st, nere came affection here.
Exit.
Enter Pacue, Finio.
Fin.
Come on my sweet finicall Pacue, the very prime
Of Pages, heres an excellent place for vs to practise in,
No body sees vs here, come lets to it.
Enter Onion.
Pac.
Contenta: Reguarde, vou le Preimer.
Oni.
Sirra Finio?
Pac.
Mort deiu le pesant.
Oni.
Didst thou see Valentine?
Finio.
Valentine? no.
Oni.
No?
Fini.
No. Sirrah Onion, whither goest?
Oni.
O I am vext, he that would trust any of these lying
trauellers.
Finio.
I prithee stay good Onion.
Pac.
Mounsieur Onion, vene ca, come hidera, Ie vou prey.
By gar me ha see two, tree, foure hundra towsand of your
Cousan hang. Lend me your hand, shall prey for know you
bettra.
I thanke you good signior Parla vou? O that I were in
an other world, in the Ingies, or some where, that I might haue
roome to laugh.
Pac.
A we fort boon: stand? you be deere now, me come,
Boon iout Mounsieur.
Vnder the arme.
Fin.
God morrow good signior.
Pac.
By gar, be mush glad for see you.
Fin.
I returne you most kind thanks sir.
Oni.
How? how? Sbloud this is rare?
Pac.
Nay, shall make you say rare by and by, Reguard
Mounsieur Finio,
The shoulder
Fin.
Signior Pache.
Pac.
Dieu vou gard Mounsieur.
Fin.
God saue you sweet signior.
Pac.
Mounsieur Onion? is not fort boon.
Oni.
Beane? quoth he, would I were in debt of a pottle of
beanes I could do as much.
Fin.
Welcome signior, whats next?
Pac.
O here, Void de grand admiration, as should meet perchance
Mounsieur Finio.
Fin.
Mounsieur Pacue
Pac.
Iesu? by Gar who thinke wee shall meete here?
Fin.
By this hand I am not a little proud of it, sir
Oni.
This trick is onely for the the chamber, it cannot be
cleanly done abroad.
Pac.
Well what say you for dis den? Mounsieur.
Fin.
Nay pray, sir.
Pac.
Par ma foy vou bein encounters?
Fin.
What doe you meane sir, let your gloue alone.
Pac.
Comen, se porte la sante.
Fin.
Faith exceeding well sir.
Pac,
Trot, be mush ioye for heire,
Fin.
And how ist with you sweet signior Pache.
Pac.
Fat comme vou voyer.
Oni.
Yong gentlemen? spirits of bloud, if euer youle tast
of a sweet peece of mutton, do Onion a good turne now.
Que que, parla Mounseir, what ist.
Oni.
Faith teach me one of these tricks.
Pac.
O me shall doe presently, stand you deere, you signior
deere, my selfe is here: so fort bein, now I parle to Mounseir
Onion, Onion pratla to you, you speaka to me, so, and as you
parle chang the bonet, Mounseir Onion.
Oni.
Mounseiur Finio.
Fin.
Mounseur Pacue.
Pac.
Pray be couera.
Oni.
Nay I beseech you sir.
Fin.
What do you meane.
Pac.
Pardon moy, shall be so,
Oni.
O God sir.
Fin.
Not I in good faith sir.
Pac.
By gar you must.
Oni:
It shall be yours.
Fin.
Nay then you wrong me,
Oni.
Well and euer I come to be great:
Pac.
You be big enough for de Onion already,
Oni.
I meane a great man.
Fin.
Then thou'dst be a monster.
Oni.
Well God knowes not what fortune may doe, commaund
me, vse me from the soule to the crowne, and the
crowne to the soule: meaning not onely from the crowne of
the head, and the sole of the foot, but also the foote of the mind
and the crownes of the purse, I cannot or stay now yong gentlemen
but—time was, time is, and time shall be.
Exeunt.
Enter Chamount, Camillo.
Cha.
Sweet Iasper I am sorry we must part,
But strong necessity enforceth it.
Let not the time seeme long vnto my friend,
Till my returne for by our loue I sweare
(The sacred spheare wherein our soules are knit)
I will endeauour to effect this busines
With all industrious care and happy speed,
My Lord these circumstances would come well,
To one lesse capable of your desert
Then I: in whom your mirrit is confirmed
With such authenticall and grounded proues.
Cha.
Well I will vse no more. Gasper adiew.
Cam.
Farewell my honored Lord.
Cha.
Commend me to the Lady, my good Gasper:
Cam.
I had remembred that had not you vrgd it.
Cha.
Once more adiew sweet Gasper.
Cam.
My good Lord.
Exit Camillo.
Cha.
Thy vertues are more precious then thy name,
Kind gentleman I would not sell thy loue,
For all the earthly obiects that mine eyes,
Haue euer tasted, sure thou art nobly borne,
How euer fortune hath obscurd thy birth:
For natiue honour sparkles in thine eyes,
How may I blesse the time wherein Chamont
My honored father did surprise vicenza,
Where this my friend (knowen by no name) was found,
Being then a child and scarce of power to speake,
To whom my father gaue this name of Gasper,
And as his owne respected him to death,
Since when wee two haue shard our mutuall fortunes,
With equall spirits, and but deathes rude hand,
No violence shall dissolue this sacred band.
Exit.
Enter Iuniper in his shop singing: to him Onion.
Oni.
Fellow Iuniper, no more of thy songs and sonets, sweet
Iuniper, no more of thy hymnes and madrigals, thou sing'st, but
I sigh.
Iuni.
Whats the matter Peter ha? what in an Academy still,
still in sable, and costly black array? ha?
Oni.
Prithee rise mount, mount sweet Iuniper, for I goe
downe the wind, and yet I puffe: for I am vext.
Iuni.
Ha Bully? vext? what intoxicate? is thy braine in a
rogue? come this loue feeds vpon thee, I set by thy cheekes,
and drinkes healthes of vermilion, teares I see by thine eyes.
Oni.
I confesse Cupids carouse, he plaies super negulum
with my liquor of life
Iuni.
Tut, thou art a goose to be Cupids gull, go to, no more
of this contemplations, & calculations, mourne not, for Rachels
thine owne
Oni.
For that let the higher powers worke: but sweet Iuniper,
I am not sad for her, and yet for her in a second person, or
if not so, yet in a third.
Iuni.
How second person? away, away, in the crotchets already
Longitude and Latitude? what second? what person?
ha?
Oni.
Iuniper, Ile bewray my selfe before thee, for thy company
is sweet vnto me, but I must entreat thy helping hand in
the case.
Iuni.
Tut? no more of this surquedry; I am thine owne? ad
vngem vpsie freeze: pell mell, come, what case? what case?
Oni.
For the case it may be any mans case, aswell as mine,
Rachel I meane, but Ile medle with her anon, in the meane time,
Valentine is the man hath wrongd me.
Iuni.
How? my Ingle wrong thee, ist possible?
Oni.
Your Ingle, hang him infidell, well and if I be not reuengd
one him let Peter Onion (by the infernall Gods) be turned
to a leeke or a scalion, I spake to him for a ditty for this
handkerchier.
Iuni.
Why, has he not done it?
Oni.
Done it, not a verse by this hand.
Iuni.
O in diebus illis, O preposterous, wel come be blith, the
best inditer of thē al is somtimes dul, fellow Onion, pardon mine
Ingle: he is a man, has impefections and declinations, as other
men haue, his masse somtimes cannot caruet nor prognisticat
and come of, as it should, no matter, Ile hammer our a paraphrase
for thee my selfe.
Oni.
No sweet Iuniper, no danger doth breed delay, loue
Iuni.
Not beare? what my mad Meridian slaue? not beare?
what?
Oni.
Cupids burden: tis to heauy, to tollerable, and as for
the handkerchire and the posie: I will not trouble thee: but
if thou wilt goe with me into her fathers backside, old Iaques
backside, and speake for me to Rachel, I will not being ratitude,
the old man is abroad and all.
Iuni.
Art thou sure on't.
Oni.
As sure as an obligation.
Iuni.
Lets away then, come we spend time in a vaine circumference,
trade I cashire thee til to morrow, fellow Onion
for thy sake I finish this workiday.
Oni.
God a mercy, and for thy sake Ile at any time make a
holiday.
Exunt.
Enter Angelio, Rachel.
Ang.
Nay I prithee Rachel, I come to comfort thee,
Be not so sad.
Rach.
O signior Angelo,
No comfort but his presence can remoue,
This sadnesse from my heart.
Ang.
Nay then y'are fond,
And want that strength of iudgement and election,
That should be attendent on your yeares and forme,
Will you, because your Lord is taken prisoner,
Blubber and weepe and keepe a peeuish stirre,
As though you would turne turtle with the newes,
Come, come, be wise. Sblood say your Lord should die:
And you goe marre your face as you begin,
What would you doe trow? who would care for you;
But this it is, when nature will bestow
Her gifts on such as know not how to vse them,
You shall haue some that had they but one quarter
Of your faire beauty? they would make it shew
Or they would see the painter twice an hower,
And I commend them I, that can vse art,
With such iudiciall practise.
Rach.
You talke iedly,
If this be your best comfort keepe it still,
My sences cannot feede on such sower cates.
Ang.
And why sweet heart.
Rach.
Nay leaue good signior.
Ang.
Come I haue sweeter vyands yet in store.
Enter Onion and Iuniper.
Iuni.
I in any case mistres Rachel.
Ang.
Rachel?
Rach.
Gods pitty signior Angelo, I here my father, away
for Gods sake.
Ang.
S'bloud, I am betwixt, I thinke, this is twice now, I
haue been serued thus.
Exit
Rach.
Pray God he meet him not.
Oni.
O braue? she's yonder, O terrible shee's gone.
Iuni.
Yea? so nimble in your Dilemma's, and your Hiperbole's
Hay my loue? O my loue, at the first sight: By the masse:
Oni.
O how she skudded, O sweet scud, how she tripped, O
delicate trip and goe.
Iuni.
Come thou art enamored with the influence of her
profundity, but sirrah harke a little.
Oni.
O rare, what? what? passing I faith, what ist? what ist?
Iuni.
What wilt thou say now, if Rachel stand now, and play
hity tity through the keyhole, to behold the equipage of thy
person:
Oni:
O sweet equipage, try good Iuniper, tickle her, talke,
talke, O? rare
Iuni.
Mistris Rachel (watch then if her father come)
Rachel? Madona? Rachel? No.
Oni.
Say I am here, Onion or Peter or so.
No, Ile knock, weele not stand vpon Horizons, and
tricks, but fall roundly to the matter.
Oni.
Well said sweet Iuniper: Horizons? hang hem? knock,
knock.
Rach.
Whose there? father.
Iuni.
Father no? and yet a father, if you please to be a mother.
Oni.
Well said Iuniper, to her againe, a smack or two more of
the mother
Iuni.
Do you here? sweet soule, sweet radamant? sweet mathauell
one word Melpomine? are you at leasure.
Rach.
At leasure? what to doe?
Iuni.
To doe what, to doe nothing, but to be liable to the
extasie of true loues exigent, or so, you smell my meaning.
Oni.
Smell, filthy, fellow Iuniper filthy? smell? O most odious.
Iuni.
How filthy.
Oni.
Filthy, by this finger? smell? smell a rat, smel a pudding,
away these tricks are for truls, a plaine wench loues plaine
dealing, ile vpon my selfe, smel to march paine wench.
Iuni.
With all my heart, Ile be legitimate and silent as an apple-squire,
Ile see nothing, and say nothing.
Oni.
Sweet hart, sweet hart?
Iuni.
And bag pudding, ha, ha, ha?
Iaq.
What Rachel my girle what Rachel;
Within
Oni.
Gods lid?
Iaq.
Within
What Rachel,
Rach.
Within
Here I am
Oni.
What rakehell cals Rachel: O treason to my loue.
Iuni.
Its her father on my life, how shall wee entrench and
edifie our selues from him?
Oni.
O conni-catching Cupid.
Enter Iaques.
Iaq.
How in my back side? where? what come they for?
Onion gets vp into a tree.
Where are they? Rachel? theeues, theeues?
Stay villaine slaue: Rachel? vntye my dog.
Iuni.
I pray you sir.
Oni.
A pitifull Onion, that thou hadst a rope.
Iaq.
Why Rachel: when I say: let loose my dog?
garlique my mastiue, let him loose I say.
Iuni.
For Gods sake here me speake, keepe vp your cur.
Oni.
I feare not garlique, heele not bite Onion his kinsman,
pray God he come out, and then theile not smell me.
Iaq.
well then deliuer, come deliuer slaue?
Iuni.
What should I deliuer?
Iaq.
O thou wouldst haue me tell thee? wouldst thou shew
me thy hands, what hast thou in thy hands?
Iuni.
Here be my hands.
Iaq.
Stay are not thy fingers ends begrimd with durt, no
thou hast wipt them.
Iuni.
Wipt them?
Iaq.
I thou villaine? thou art a subtile knaue, put off thy
shewes, come I will see them, giue me a knife here Rachel, Ile
rip the soles.
Oni.
No matter he's a cobler, he can mend them.
Iuni.
What are you mad? are you detestable, would you
make an Anatomy of me, thinke you I am not true Ortographie?
Iaq.
Ortographie, Anatomy?
Iuni.
For Gods sake be not so inuiolable. I am no ambuscado,
what predicament call you this, why do you intimate so
much.
Iaq.
I can feele nothing.
Oni.
Bir Lady but Onion feeles something.
Iaq.
Soft sir, you are not yet gon, shake your legs, come,
and your armes, be briefe, stay let me see these drums, these kilderkins,
these bombard slops, what is it crams hem so.
Iuni.
Nothing but haire.
Iaq.
Thats true, I had almost forgot this rug, this hedghogs
nest, this haymowe, this beares skin, this heath, this firsbush.
Iuni.
O let me goe, you teare my haire, you reluolue my
Iaq.
Heart, thou art somewhat eas'd? halfe of my feare
Hath tane his leaue of my, the other halfe
Still keepes possession in dispight of hope,
Vntill these amorous eyes, court my faire gold:
Deare I come to thee: friend, why art not gone?
Auoid my soules vexation, Sathan hence?
Why doest thou stare on me, why doest thou stay?
Why por'st thou on the ground with theeuish eyes?
What see'st thou there, thou curre? what gap'st thou at?
Hence from my house, Rachel, send garlick forth.
Iunip.
I am gone sir, I am gone, for Gods sake stay.
Exit Iuniper.
Iaq.
Packe, and thanke God thou scap'st so well away.
Oni.
If I scape this tree, destinies, I defie you.
Iaq.
I cannot see by any Characters
Writ on this earth, that any fellon foote
Hath tane acquaintance of this hallowed ground.
None sees me: knees do homage to your Lord.
Tis safe, tis safe, it lyes and sleepes so soundly,
Twould do one good to looke on't. If this blisse
Be giuen to any man that hath much gold,
Iustly to say tis safe, I say tis safe.
O what a heauenly round these two words dance
Within me and without me: First I thinke hem,
And then I speake hem, then I watch their sound,
And drinke it greedily with both mine eares,
Then thinke, then speake, then drinke their sound againe,
And racket round about this bodies court.
These two sweet words: tis safe: stay I will feed
My other sences; ô how sweet it smels;
Oni.
I mar'le he smels not Onion, being so neere it.
Iaq.
Downe to thy graue againe, thou beauteous Ghost,
Angels men say, are spirits: Spirits be
Inuisible, bright angels are you so?
Be you inuisible to euery eye.
Though you breake mine: Deare Saints adiew, adiew:
My feete part from you, but my soule dwels with you.
Exit.
Oni.
Is he gone? ô Fortune my friend, & not fortune my foe,
I come downe to embrace thee, and kisse thy great toe.
Enter Iuniper.
Iunip.
Fellow Onion? Peter.
Oni.
Fellow Iuniper.
What's the old panurgo gone? departed, cosmografied, ha?
Oni.
O I, and harke Sirrah. Shall I tell him? no.
Iunip.
Nay, be briefe and declare, stand not vpon conodrums
now, thou knowest what contagious speeches I haue
sufferd for thy sake and he should come againe and inuent me
here.
Oni.
He saies true, it was for my sake, I will tell him.
Sirra Iuniper? and yet I will not.
Iunip.
What sayest thou sweete Onion?
Oni.
And thou hadst smelt the sent of me when I was in the
tree, thou wouldest not haue said so: but Sirra, The case is alterd
with me, my heart has giuen loue a box of the eare, made
him kicke vp the heeles I faith.
Iunip.
Sayest thou me so, mad Greeke? how haps it? how
chances it.
Oni.
I cannot hold it, Iuniper, haue an eye, looke, haue an
eye to the doore, the old prouerb's true, I see: gold is but
mucke. Nay Gods so Iuniper to the doore, an eye to the maine
chance, here you slaue, haue an eye.
Iunip.
O inexorable! ô infallible! ô infricate deuine, and
superficiall fortune.
Oni.
Nay, it will be sufficient anon, here, looke heere.
Iunip.
O insolent good lucke! How didst thou produce
th'intelligence of the gold mynerals.
Oni.
Ile tell you that anon, heere, make shift, conuey,
cramme.
S'bloud what shall we do with all this? we shall nere
bring it to a consumption.
Oni.
Consumption? why weele bee most sumptuously attir'd,
man.
Iunip.
By this gold, I will haue three or fouremost stigmaticall
suites presently.
Oni.
Ile go in my foot-cloth, Ile turne Gentleman:
Iunip.
So will I.
Oni.
But what badge shall we giue, what cullison?
Iunip.
As for that lets vse the infidelity and commiseration
of some harrot of armes, he shall giue vs a gudgeon.
Oni.
A gudgeon? a scutheon thou wouldst say, man.
Iunip.
A scutcheon or a gudgeon, all is one.
Oni.
Well, our armes be good inough, lets looke to our
legges.
Iunip.
Content, weele be iogging.
Oni.
Rachel? we retire: garlike God boy ye.
Iunip.
Farewell sweete Iaques.
Oni.
Farewell sweete Rachel, sweet dogge adiew.
Exeunt.
Enter Maximilian, Count Ferneze, Aurelia, Phœnixella, Pache.
Max.
Nay but sweet Count.
Count.
Away, Ile heare no more,
Neuer was man so palpably abusd,
My sonne so basely marted; and my selfe
Am made the subiect of your mirth and scorne.
Max.
Count Ferneze you tread to hard vpon my patience,
Do not persist I aduise your Lordship.
Count.
I will persist, and vnto thee I speake.
Thou Maximilian thou hast iniur'd me.
Max.
Before the Lord:
Aur.
Sweet signior.
Phœ.
O my father.
Max.
Lady let your father thank your beauty.
By garme shall be hang for tella dis same,
Me tella madamoyselle, she tell her fadera.
Count.
The true Chamount set free, and one left here
Of no descent, clad barely in his name.
Sirrah boy come hither, and be sure, you speake the simple
truth:
Pac.
O pardone moy mounsieur,
Count.
Come leaue your pardons, and directly say.
What villaine is the same that hath vsurpt,
The honor'd name and person of Chamount:
Pac.
O Mounsieur, no point villaine, braue Cheualier,
Mounsieur Gasper.
Count.
Monusieur Gasper, on what occasion did they change
their names, what was their policy, or their pretext.
Pac.
Me canno tell, par ma foy Mounsieur.
Max.
My honorable Lord.
Count.
Tut tut, be silent.
Max.
Silent? Count Ferneze, I tell thee if Amurath the great
Turke were here I would speake, and he should here me:
Count.
So will not I.
Max.
By my fathers hand, but thou shalt Count, I say till
this instant, I was neuer toucht in my reputation: here me you
shall knowe that you haue wrongd me, and I wil make you acknowledge
it, if I cannot my sword shall.
Count.
By heauen I will not, I will stop mine eares,
My sences loath the Sauiour of thy breath.
'Tis poyson to me, I say I will not heare.
What shall I know, tis you haue iniurd me,
What will you make? make me acknowledge it.
Fetch forth that Gasper, that lewd counterfeit.
Enter seruing with Camillo.
Ile make him to your face approue your wrongs.
Come on false substance, shadow to Chamont:
Had you none else to worke vpon but me,
Was I your fittest proiect? well confesse,
What you intended by this secret plot.
Speake truth, and be intreated courteously,
But double with me, and resolue to proue
The extremest rigor that I can inflict.
Cam.
My honor'd Lord, heare me with patience,
Nor hope of fauour, nor the feare of torment,
Shall sway my tongue from vttring of a truth.
Count.
Tis well, proceed then.
Cam.
The morne before this battell did begin,
Wherein my Lord Chamount and I were tane,
We vow'd one mutuall fortune, good or bad,
That day should be imbraced of vs both,
And vrging that might worst succeede our vow,
We there concluded to exchange our names.
Count.
Then Maximilian tooke you for Chamount.
Cam.
True noble Lord.
Count.
Tis false, ignoble wretch,
Twas but a complot to betray my sonne.
Max.
Count, thou lyest in thy bosome, Count;
Count.
Lye?
Cam.
Nay I beseech you honor'd gentlemen,
Let not the vntimely ruine of your loue,
Follow these sleight occurrents; be assured
Chamounts returne will heale these wounds againe,
And breake the points of your too piercing thoughts.
Count.
Returne! I when? when will Chamount returne?
Heele come to fetch you, will he? I tis like,
Youl'd haue me thinke so, that's your policy.
No, no, yong gallant, your deuice is stale,
You cannot feed me with so vaine a hope.
Cam.
My Lord, I feede you not with a vaine hope,
I know assuredly he will returne,
And bring your noble sonne along with him.
Max.
I, I dare pawne my soule he will returne.
Count.
O impudent dirision? open scorne?
Intollerable wrong? is't not inough?
But still to mocke me, still to iest at me?
Fellowes, away with him, thou ill-bred slaue,
That sets no difference twixt a noble spirit,
And thy owne slauish humour, do not thinke
But ile take worthy vengeance on thee, wretch?
Cam.
Alas, these threats are idle, like the wind,
And breed no terror in a guiltlesse mind.
Count.
Nay; thou shalt want no torture, so resolue, bring
him away.
Cam.
Welcome the worst, I suffer for a friend,
Your tortures will, my loue shall neuer end.
Exeunt.
Manent Maximillian, Aurelia, Phœnixella, Pacue.
Phœn.
Alas poore gentleman, my fathers rage
Is too extreame, too sterne and violent!
O that I knew with all my strongest powers,
How to remoue it from thy patient breast,
But that I cannot, yet my willing heart,
Shall minister in spight of tyranny
To thy misfortune, something there is in him,
That doth enforce this strange affection,
With more then common rapture in my breast:
For being but Gasper, he is still as deare
To me, as when he did Chamount appeare.
Exit Phœnixella.
Aure.
But in good sadnesse Signior, do you thinke Chamount
will returne?
Max.
Do I see your face, Lady?
Aure.
I sure, if loue haue not blinded you.
Max.
That is a question, but I will assure you no, I can
see, and yet loue is in mine eye: well, the Count your father
simply hath dishonor'd me: and this steele shall engraue it on
his burgonet.
Aure.
Nay, sweet Signior.
Max.
Lady, I do preferre my reputation to my life,
But you shall rule me, come lets march.
Exit Maximillian.
Aure.
Ile follow Signior, ô sweet Queene of loue!
Soueraigne of all my thoughts, and thou faire fortune,
Who (more to honour my affections)
Hast thus translated Gasper to Chamount.
Let both your flames now burne in one bright speare;
And giue true light to my aspiring hopes,
Hasten Chamounts returne, let him affect me,
Though father, friends, and all the world reiect me.
Exit.
Enter Angelo, Christopher.
Ange.
Sigh for a woman, would I fould mine armes,
Raue in my sleepe, talke idly being awake,
Pine and looke pale, make loue-walkes in the night,
To steale cold comfort from a day-starres eyes.
Kit, thou art a foole, wilt thou be wise? then lad
Renounce this boy-gods nice idolatry,
Stand not on complement, and wooing trickes,
Thou louest old Iaques daughter, doest thou?
Chris.
Loue her?
Ange.
Come, come, I know't, be rul'd and shees thine owne,
Thou't say her father Iaques, the old begger,
Hath pawnd his word to thee, that none but thou,
Shalt be his sonne in law.
Chris.
He has.
Ange.
He has? wilt thou beleeue him, and be made a kooke,
To waite on such an antique wethercocke;
Why he is more inconstant then the sea,
His thoughts, Cameleon-like, change euery minute:
No Kit, worke soundly, steale the wench away,
Wed her, and bed her, and when that is done,
Then say to Iaques, shall I be your sonne?
But come to our deuise, where is this gold?
Chris.
Heere Signior Angelo.
Ange.
Bestow it, bid thy hands shed golden drops,
Let these bald french crownes be vncouered,
To Iaques staring eyes when he steps forth,
The needy beggar will be glad of gold.
So, now keepe thou aloofe, and as he treades
This guilded path, stretch out his ambling hopes,
With scattring more & more, & as thou go'st, cry Iaques, Iaques
Chris.
Tush, let me alone.
Ang.
First ile play the ghost, Ile cal him out, Kit keep aloofe.
Chris.
But Signior Angelo. Where wil your selfe and Rachel
stay for me, after the iest is ended?
Ange.
Masse, that's true, at the old Priory behinde S. Foyes.
Chris.
Agreed, no better place, ile meete you there.
Ange.
Do good foole, do, but ile not meet you there.
Now to this geere, Iaques, Iaques, what Iaques?
Iaq.
within
Who cals? whose there?
Ange.
Iaques.
Iaq.
within
Who cals?
Ange.
Steward, he comes, he comes Iaques.
Enter Iaques.
Iaq.
What voice is this? no body here, was I not cald? I was.
And one cride Iaques with a hollow voyce,
I was deceiu'd, no I was not deceiu'd,
See see, it was an Angell cald me forth,
Gold, gold, man-making gold, another starre,
Drop they from heauen, no, no, my house I hope
Is haunted with a Fairy. My deere Lar,
My houshold God, My Fairy on my knees.
Christ.
Iaques.
Exit Christophero.
Iaq.
My Lar doth call me, ô sweet voyce,
Musicall as the spheares, see, see, more gold.
Chris.
within
Iaques.
Enter Rachel.
Iaq.
What Rachel, Rachel, lock my doore, looke to my house.
Chris.
within
Iaques.
Iaq.
Shut fast my doore, a golden crowne, Iaques shall be a
king.
Exit.
Ange.
To a fooles paradice that path will bring
Thee and thy houshold bar.
Rach.
What means my father, I wonder what strange humor.
Come sweete soule, leaue wondring, start not, twas I
laid this plot to get thy father forth.
Rach.
O Angelo.
Ange.
O me no oo's, but heare, my Lord your loue,
Paulo Ferneze is returnd from warre,
Lingers at Pont Valeria, and from thence
By post at midnight last, I was coniur'd
To man you thither, stand not on replies,
A horse is sadled for you, will you go,
And I am for you, if you will stay, why so.
Rach.
O Angelo, each minute is a day till my Ferneze come,
come weele away sir.
Ange.
Sweet soule I guesse thy meaning by thy lookes,
At pont Valerio thou thy loue shalt see,
But not Ferneze, Steward fare you well.
You wait for Rachel to, when can you tell?
Exeunt. Enter Iaq.
Iaq.
O in what golden circle haue I dan'st?
Millaine these od'rous and enfloured fields
Are none of thine, no heres Elizium,
Heere blessed ghosts do walke, this is the Court
And glorious palace where the God of gold
Shines like the sonne, of sparkling maiesty;
O faire fethered, my red-brested birds,
Come flye with me, ile bring you to a quier,
Whose consort being sweetned with your sound:
The musique will be fuller, and each hower
Enter Christ.
These eares shall banquet with your harmony ô, ô, ô,
Chris.
At the old priorie, behind Saint Foyes,
That was the place of our appointment sure:
I hope he will not make me loose my gold,
And mock me to, perhaps they are within: Ile knock.
Iaq.
O God, the case is alterd.
Christ.
Rachel?
Angelo? Signior Angelo?
Iaq.
Angels? I where? mine Angels? wher's my gold?
Why Rachel? O thou theeuish Canibal,
Thou eatest my flesh in stealing of my gold.
What gold?
Iaq.
What gold? Rachel call help, come forth,
Ile rip thine entrailes, but ile haue my gold:
Rachel why comes thou not? I am vndone,
Ay me she speakes not, thou hast slaine my child.
Exit
Chris.
What is the man possest trow? this is strange,
Rachel I see is gone with Angelo:
Well ile once againe vnto the priory,
And see if I can meete them.
Exit Christopher, Enter Iaques.
Iaq.
Tis too true,
Th'ast made away my child, how hast my gold:
O what Hienna cald me out of dores,
The theife is gone; my gold's gone, Rachels gone,
Al's gone? saue I that spend my cries in vaine,
But ile hence too, and die or end this paine.
Exit.
Enter Iuniper, Onion, Finio, Valentine.
Iuni.
Swonds, let me goe, hay catso, catch him aliue,
I call, I call, boy. I come, I come sweetheart.
Oni.
Page hold my rapier, while I hold my freind here.
Valen.
O heer's a sweet metamorphosis, a cupple of buzzards
turn'd to a paire of peacocks.
Iuni.
Signior Onion, lend me thy boy to vnhang my rapier.
On.
Signior Iuniper for once or so, but troth is, you must inueigle,
as I haue done, my Lords page here a poor folower of mine.
Iuni.
Hel ho, your page then sha'not be super intendent
vpon me? he shall not be addicted? he shall not be incident?
he shall not be incident? he shall not be incident, shall he?
Fin.
O sweet signior Iuniper.
He foynes
Iuni.
Sbloud stand away princocks? do not aggrauate my ioy.
Valen.
Nay good Maister. Onion.
Oni.
Nay and he haue the heart to draw my bloud, let
him come.
Iuni.
Ile slice you Onion, Ile slice you?
Oni.
Ile cleaue you Iuniper.
Valen.
Why hold, hold, hough? what do you meane?
Iuni.
Let him come Ingle, stand by boy, his allebaster blad
Fin.
Why heare you sweet signior, let not there be any
contētion, betweene my Maister & you, about me, if you want
a page sir, I can helpe you to a proper stripling.
Iuni.
Canst thou? what parentage? what ancestry? what genealogy
is he?
Fin.
A french boy sir.
Iuni.
Has he his French linguist? has he?
Fin.
I, sir.
Iuni.
Then transport him: her's a crusado for thee.
Oni.
You will not, imbecell my seruant with your beneuolence
will you, hold boy their's a portmantu for thee.
Fin.
Lord sir.
On.
Do take it boy, its three pounds ten shill, a portmantu.
Fin.
I thanke your Lordship.
Iuni.
Sirrah Ningle: thou art a traueller, and I honour thee.
I prithee discourse? cherish thy muse? discourse?
Valen.
Of what sir?
Iuni.
Of what thou wilt. Sbloud? hang sorrow?
Oni.
Prithy Valentine assoile me one thing.
Valen.
Tis pitty to soile you sir, your new apparell.
On.
Masse thou saist true, aparel makes a man forget himself.
Iun.
Begin, find your tongue Ningle.
Val.
Now will gull these ganders rarely:
Gentlemen hauing in my peregrinatiō through Mesopotamia.
Iun.
Speake legibly, this gam's gone, without the great
mercy of God,
By Gods lid, nor King nor Keisar shall?
Enter Finio, Pacue, Balt. Martino.
Balt.
Where? where? Finio, where be they.
Iun.
Go to, ile be with you anon.
Oni.
O her's the page signior Iuniper:
Iun.
What sayth monsier Onion, boy.
Fin.
What say you sir.
Iuni.
Tread out boy.
Fin.
Take vp, you meane sir.
Iun.
Tread out I say, so, I thanke you, is this the boy.
Aue mounsieur.
Iuni.
Who gaue you that name?
Pac.
Giue me do name, vat name:
Oni.
He thought your name had been, we yong gentlemen,
you must do more then his legges can do for him, beare
with him sir.
Iuni.
Sirrah giue me instance of your carriage? youle serue
my turne, will you?
Pac.
What? turne vpon the toe.
Fin.
O signior no.
Iuni.
Page will you follow me, ile giue you good exhibition.
Pac.
By gar, shal not alone follow you, but shal leade you to.
Oni.
Plaguie boy, he sooths his humour? these french villaines
ha pockie wits.
Iuni.
Here? disarme me? take my semitary.
Valen.
O rare, this would be a rare man, and he had a little
trauell, Balthasar, Martino, put off your shooes, and bid him
coble them.
Iuni.
Freinds, friends, but pardon me for fellows, no more
in occupation, no more in corporation, tis so pardon me, the
case is alterd, this is law, but ile stand to nothing.
Pac.
Fat so me tinke.
Iuni.
Well then God saue the dukes Maiesty, is this any
harme now? speake, is this any harme now.
Oni.
No nor good neither, Sbloud?
Iuni.
Do you laugh at me? do you laugh at me? do you
laugh at me?
Valen.
I sir, we do.
Iunip.
You do indeed?
Valen.
I indeed sir.
Iuni.
Tis sufficient, Page carry my purse, dog me?
Exit.
Oni.
Gentlemen leaue him not, you see in what case he is,
he is not in aduersity, his purse is full of money, leaue him not?
Enter Angelo with Rachel.
Exeunt
Ang.
Nay gentle Rachel?
Rach.
Away? forbeare? vngentle Angelo,
Touch not my body, with those impious hands,
That like hot Irons seare my trembling heart,
And make it hisse, at your disloyalty.
Enter Chamount Paulo Ferneze.
Was this your drift? to vse Fernezes name?
Pau.
Stay noble sir.
Ange.
Sbloud how like a puppet do you talke now?
Dishonor? what dishonor? come, come, foole,
Nay then I see y'are peeuish, S'heart dishonor?
To haue you a topriest and marry you,
And put you in an honorable state.
Rach.
To marry me? ô heauen, can it be?
That men should liue with such vnfeeling soules,
Without or touch or conscience of religion,
Or that their warping appetites should spoile
Those honor'd formes, that the true scale of friendship
Had set vpon their faces.
Ange.
Do you heare? what needs all this? say, will you haue
me, or no?
Rach.
Il'e haue you gone, and leaue me, if you would.
Ange.
Leaue you? I was accurst to bring you hither,
And make so faire an offer to a foole.
A pox vpon you, why should you be coy,
What good thing haue you in you to be proud of?
Are y'any other then a beggars daughter?
Because you haue beauty. O Gods light a blast.
Pau.
I Angelo.
Ange.
You scornefull baggage, I lou'd thee not so much,
but now I hate thee.
Rach.
Vpon my knees, you heauenly powers, I thanke you,
That thus haue tam'd his wild affections.
Ange.
This will not do, I must to her againe,
Rachel, ô that thou sawst my heart, or didst behold,
The place from whence that scalding sigh euented.
Rachel, by Iesu I loue thee as my soule, Rachel, sweet Rachel.
Rach.
What againe returnd vnto this violent passion.
Ange.
Do but heare me, by heauen I loue you Rachel.
Rach.
Pray forbeare, ô that my Lord Ferneze were but here.
Ange.
Sbloud and he were, what would he do.
Pau.
This would he do base villaine.
Rach.
My deere Lord,
Pau.
Thou monster, euen the soule of trechery!
O what dishonord title of reproch,
May my tongue spit in thy deserued face?
The steeled organs of those traytrous eyes,
To take into thy heart, and pierce it through:
Turn'st thou them on the ground? wretch, dig a graue,
With their sharp points, to hide th'abhorred head;
Sweet loue, thy wrongs haue beene too violent
Since my departure from thee, I perceiue:
But now true comfort shall againe appeare,
And like an armed angell guard thee safe
From all th'assaults of couered villany.
Come Mounsieur, let's go, & leaue this wretch to his despaire.
Ange.
My noble Ferneze.
Pau.
What canst thou speake to me, and not thy tongue,
Forc't with the torment of thy guilty soule
Breake that infected circle of thy mouth,
Like the rude clapper of a crazed bell.
I, that in thy bosome lodg'd my soule,
With all her traine of secrets, thinking them
To be as safe, and richly entertained,
As in a Princes court, or tower of strength,
And thou to proue a traitor to my trust,
And basely to expose it, ô this world!
Ange.
My honorable Lord.
Pau.
The very owle, whō other birds do stare & wonder at,
Shall hoot at thee, and snakes in euery bush
Shall deafe thine eares with their—
Cha.
Nay good my Lord, giue end vnto your passions.
Ange.
You shall see, I will redeeme your lost opinion.
Rach.
My Lord beleeue him.
Cha.
Come, be satisfied, sweet Lord you know our haste,
Let vs to horse, the time for my engaged returne is past;
Be friends againe, take him along with you.
Pau.
Come signior Angelo, hereafter proue more true.
Exeunt.
Enter Count Ferneze, Maximillian, Francesco.
Count.
Tut Maximillian, for your honor'd selfe,
I am perswaded, but no words shall turne
The edge of purposd vengeance on that wretch,
Come, bring him forth to execution.
Ile hang him for my sonne, he shall not scape,
Had he an hundred liues: Tell me vile slaue,
Thinkest thou I loue my sonne? is he my flesh?
Is he my bloud, my life? and shall all these be torturd for thy
sake, and not reueng'd? trusse vp the villaine.
Max.
My Lord, there is no law to confirme this action.
Tis dishonorable.
Count.
Dishonorable? Maximillian?
It is dishonorable in Chamount, the day of his prefixt returne
is past, and he shall pay fort.
Cam.
My Lord, my Lord,
Vse your extreamest vengeance, ile be glad
To suffer ten times more, for such a friend.
Count.
O resolute and peremptory wretch!
Fran.
My honored Lord, let vs intreat a word.
Count.
Ile heare no more, I say he shall not liue,
My selfe will do it. Stay, what forme is this
Stands betwixt him and me, and holds my hand.
What miracle is this? tis my owne fancy,
Carues this impression in me, my soft nature,
That euer hath retaind such foolish pitty,
Of the most abiect creatures misery,
That it abhorres it, what a child am I
To haue a child? Ay me, my son, my son.
Enter Christophero.
Chris.
O my deere loue, what is become of thee?
What vniust absence layest thou on my brest,
Like waights of lead, when swords are at my backe,
That run me through with thy vnkind flight,
My gentle disposition waxeth wild,
I shall run frantike, ô my loue, my loue.
Enter Iaques.
Iaq.
My gold, my gold, my life, my soule, my heauen,
What is become of thee? see, ile impart
My miserable losse to my good Lord,
Let me haue search my Lord, my gold is gone.
Count.
My sonne, Christophero, thinkst it possible,
I euer shall behold his face againe.
Chris.
O father wher's my loue, were you so carelesse
To let an vnthrift steale away your child.
Iaq.
I know your Lordship may find out my gold,
Count.
Now they haue yong Chamount? Christophero?
Surely they neuer will restore my sonne.
Chris.
Who would haue thought you could haue beene so
carelesse to loose your onely daughter.
Iaq.
Who would thinke,
That looking to my gold with such hares eyes,
That euer open, I euen when thy sleepe,
I thus should loose my gold, my noble Lord, what saies your
Lordship?
Count.
O my sonne, my sonne.
Chris.
My deerest Rachel?
Iaq.
My most hony gold.
Count.
Heare me Christophero.
Chris.
Nay heare me Iaques.
Iaq.
Heare me most honor'd Lord.
Max.
What rule is here?
Count.
O God that we should let Chamount escape.
Enter Aurelia, Phœnixella.
Chris.
I and that Rachel, such a vertuous mayd, should be
thus stolne away.
Iaq.
And that my gold, being so hid in earth, should bee
found out.
Max.
O confusion of languages, & yet no tower of Babel!
Fran.
Ladies, beshrew me, if you come not fit to make a iangling
consort, will you laugh to see three constant passions.
Max.
Stand by, I will vrge them, sweet Count, will you be
comforted.
Count.
It cannot be but he is handled the most cruelly,
That euer any noble prisoner was.
Max.
Steward, go cheere my Lord:
Chris.
Well, if Rachel tooke her flight willingly?
Max.
Sirrah, speake you touching, your daughters flight?
Iaq.
O that I could so soone forget to know the thiefe againe,
that had my gold, my gold.
Max.
Is not this pure?
Count.
O thou base wretch, ile drag thee through the streets.
Enter Balthasar, and whispers with him.
And as a monster, make thee wondred at, how now.
Phœn.
Sweet Gentleman? how too vnworthily
Art thou thus tortured, braue Maximillian,
Count.
How, my sonne returnd? O Maximillian,
Francisco, daughters? bid him enter here.
Enter Chamount, Ferneze, Rachel, Angelo.
Dost thou not mocke me? O my deere Paulo welcome.
Max.
My Lord Chamount?
Cha.
My Gasper.
Chris.
Rachel.
Iaq.
My gold Rachel? my gold?
Count.
Some body bid the begger cease his noise.
Chris.
O signior Angelo, would you deceiue
Your honest friend, that simply trusted you?
Well Rachel. I am glad tho'art here againe.
Ang.
I faith she is not for you steward.
Iaq.
I beseech you maddam vrge your father.
Phœ.
I will anon? good Iaques be content.
Aur.
Now God a mercy fortune, and sweet Venus,
Let Cupid do his part, and all is well.
Phœ.
Me thinks my heart's in heauen with this comfort.
Cha.
Is this the true Italian courtesie.
Ferneze were you torturd thus in France? by my soules safety.
Count.
My most noble Lord? I do beseech your Lordship.
Cha.
Honored Count, wrong not your age with flexure of
a knee,
That did torment you in your absent sonne:
Count.
O worthy gentlemen, I am ashamd
That my extreame affection to my sonne,
Should giue my honour so vncur'd a maine,
But my first sonne, being in Vicenza lost.
Cha.
How in Vicenza? lost you a sonne there?
About what time my Lord?
Count.
O the same night, wherein your noble father tooke
the towne.
Cha.
How long's that since my Lord? can you remember.
Count.
Tis now wellnie vpon the twentith yeare.
Cha.
And how old was he then?
Count.
I cannot tel, betweene the yeares of three and foure,
I take it.
Had he no speciall note in his attire,
Or otherwise, that you can call to mind.
Count.
I cannot well remember his attire,
But I haue often heard his mother say:
He had about his necke a tablet,
Giuen to him by the Emperour Sigismund.
His Godfather, with this inscription,
Vnder the figure of a siluer Globe: En minimo, mundus.
Cha.
How did you call your sonne my Lord?
Count.
Camillo Lord Chamount.
Cha.
Then no more my Gasper? but Camillo,
Take notice of your father, gentlemen:
Stand not amazd? here is a tablet,
With that inscription? found about his necke
That night, and in Vicenza by my father,
(Who being ignorant, what name he had)
Christned him Gasper, nor did I reueale,
This secret till this hower to any man.
Count.
O happy reuelation? ô blest hower? ô my Camillo.
Phœ.
O strange my brother.
Fran.
Maximilian? behold how the aboundance of his ioy
Drownds him in teares of gladnesse.
Count.
O my boy? forgiue thy fathers late austerity:
Max.
My Lord? I deliuered as much before, but your honour
would not be perswaded, I will hereafter giue more obseruance
to my visions? I drempt of this.
Iaq.
I can be still no longer, my good Lord,
Do a poore man some grace mongst all your ioyes.
Count.
Why whats the matter Iaques.
Iaq.
I am robd, I am vndone my Lord, robd and vndone:
A heape of thirty thousand golden crownes,
Stolne from me in one minute, and I feare:
By her confedracy, that cals me father,
But she's none of mine, therefore sweet Lord:
Let her be tortured to confesse the truth.
Max.
More wonders yet.
Count.
How Iaques is not Rachel then thy daughter.
Iaq.
No, I disclaime in her, I spit at her,
Your sonne this gallant, and your steward here,
Haue all been partners with her in my spoile? no lesse then
thirty thousand.
Count.
Iaques, Iaques, this is impossiole, how shouldst thou
come? to the possession of so huge a heape:
Iaq.
Out alas, I haue betraid my selfe with my owne tongue,
The case is alterd.
Count.
One stay him there.
Max.
What meanes he to depart, Count Ferneze, vpon my
soule this begger, this begger is a counterlait: vrge him? didst
thou loose gold?
Iaq.
O no I lost no gold.
Max.
Said I not true.
Count.
How didst thou first loose thirty thousand crowns,
And now no gold? was Rachel first thy child:
And is shee now no daughter, sirra Iaques,
You know how farre our Millaine Iawes extend, for punishment
of liars,
Iaq.
I my Lord? what shall I doe? I haue no starting hols?
Mounsieur Chamount stand you my honored Lord.
Cha.
For what old man?
Iaq.
Ill gotten goods neuer thriue,
I plaid the thiefe, and now am robd my selfe:
I am not as I seeme, Iaques de prie,
Nor was I borne a begger as I am:
But sometime steward to your noble father.
Cha.
What Melun that robd my fathers treasure, stole my
sister?
Iaq.
I, I, that treasure is lost, but Isabell your beautious sister
here seruiues in Rachel; and therefore on my knes?
Max.
Stay Iaques stay? the case still alters?
Count.
Faire Rachel sister to the Lord Chamount.
Ang.
Steward your cake is dow, as well as mine.
Pau.
I see that honours flames cannot be hid,
No more then lightening in the blackest cloud.
Max.
Then sirra tis true? you haue lost this gold,
Iaq.
I worthy signior, thirty thousand crownes.
Count.
Masse who was it told me, that a couple of my
Fran.
Marry 'twas I my Lord? my man told me?
Enter Onion and Iuniper.
Max.
How now what pagent is this,
Iuni.
Come signior Onion, lets not be ashamd to appeare,
Keepe state? looke not ambiguous now?
Oni.
Not I while I am in this sute.
Iuni.
Lordings, equiualence to you all.
Oni.
We thought good, to be so good, as see you gentlemen
Max.
What? mounsieur Onion?
Oni.
How dost thou good captaine.
Count.
What are my hinds turnd gentlemen.
Oni.
Hinds sir? Sbloud and that word will beare action, it
shall cost vs a thousand pound a peece, but weele be reuenged.
Iuni.
Wilt thou sell thy Lordship Count?
Count.
What? peasants purchase Lordships?
Iuni.
Is that any Nouels sir.
Max.
O transmutation of elements, it is certified you had
pages.
Iuni.
I sir, but it is knowen they proued ridiculus, they did
pilfer, they did purloine, they did procrastinate our purses, for
the which wasting of our stocke, we haue put thē to the stocks.
Count.
And thither shall you two presently,
These be the villaines, that stole Iaques gold,
Away with them, and set them with their men.
Max.
Onion you will now bee peeld.
Fran:
The case is alterd now
Oni.
Good my Lord, good my Lord:
Iuni.
Away scoundrell? dost thou feare a little elocution?
Shall we be confiscate now? shal we droope now?
Shall we be now in helogabolus:
Oni.
Peace, peace, leaue thy gabling?
Count.
Away, away with them; whats this they prate,
Exeunt with Iuniper and Onion.
Keepe the knaues sure, strickt inquisition
Shall presently be made for Iaques gold,
To be disposd at pleasure of Chamount.
Cha.
She is your owne Lord Paulo, if your father
Giue his consent.
How now Christofero? The case is alterd.
Chris.
With you, as well as me, I am content sir.
Count.
With all my heart? and in exchange of her,
(If with your faire acceptance it may stand)
I tender my Aurelia to your loue.
Cha.
I take her from your Lordship, with all thanks,
And blesse the hower wherein I was made prisoner:
For the fruition of this present fortune,
So full of happy and vnlookt for ioyes.
Melun, I pardon thee, and for the treasure,
Recouer it, and hold it as thine owne:
It is enough for me to see my sister:
Liue in the circle of Fernezes armes,
My friend, the sonne of such a noble father,
And my vnworthy selfe rapt aboue all,
By being the Lord to so diuine a dame.
Max.
Well, I will now sweare the case is alterd. Lady fare
you well, I will subdue my affections, Maddam (as for you)
you are a profest virgin, and I will be silent, my honorable
Lord Ferneze, it shall become you at this time not be frugall,
but bounteous, and open handed, your fortune hath been so
to you Lord Chamount.
You are now no stranger, you must be welcome, you haue a
faire amiable and splendius Lady: but signior Paulo, signior
Camillo, I know you valiant? be louing: Lady I must be better
knowne to you, signiors for you, I passe you not: though I let
you passe; for in truth I passe not of you, louers to your nuptials,
Lordings to your dances, March faire al, for a faire March,
is worth a kings ransome.—
Exeunt
| A Pleasant Comedy, Called :The Case is Altered | |