 | The Insatiate Countesse |  |
Actus quintus
Scæna prima.
Enter Medina, the dead body of Gvido Alias Count Arsena, and Souldiours, Don Sago guarded, Executioner, Scaffold.Medina.
Don Sago quak'st thou not to behold this spectacle,
This innocent sacrifice murdred noblenes,
When bloud the maker euer promiseth,
Shall though with slow yet with sure vengeance rest.
I'tis a guerdon earn'd, and must be paide,
I nee'r knew murder yet, burie did bleed.
Canst thou after so many fearefull conflicts,
Betweene this obiect, and thy guilty conscience,
Now thou art freed from out the serpents Iawes,
That vilde Adultresse, whose sorceries
Doth draw chaste men into incontinence:
Whose tongue flowes ouer with harmefull eloquence.
Canst thou I say repent this hainous Act,
And learne to loath, that killing Cockatrice?
Sago.
By this fresh blood, that from thy manly brest,
I cowardly sluct out, I would in hell,
From this sad minute, still the day of doome:
To re-inspire vaine Æsculapius.
And fill these crimson conduits, feele the fire
Due to the damned, and this horrid fact
Medina
Vpon my soule, braue Spaniard, I beleeue thee.
Sago.
O cease to weepe in blood, or teach me too,
The bubbling wounds, doe murmure for reuenge:
This is the end of lust, where men may see,
Murders the shadow of Adulterie:
And followes it to death.
Medina.
But hopefull Lord, we doe commiserate,
Thy bewitch't fortunes, a free pardon giue:
On this thy true and noble penitence.
With all we make thee Collonell of our horse;
Leuied against the proud Venecian state.
Sago.
Medina, I thanke thee not, giue life to him,
That sits with Risus, and the full cheek't Bacchus,
The rich and mighty Monarchs of the earth,
To me life is ten times more terrible,
Then death can be to me, O breake my breast:
Diuines and dying men may talke of hell,
But in my heart the seuerall torments dwell.
What Tanais, Nilus? or what Tioris swift?
What Rhenus ferier then the Cataract?
Should flow for euer, through these guiltie hands,
Yet the sanguinolent staine would extant be.
Medina.
God pardon thee, we doe.
Enter a messenger.
A shoute.
Messenger.
The Countesse comes my Lord, vnto the death:
But so vnwillingly, and vnprepar'd,
That she is rather forst, thinking the summe
She sent to you of twenty thousand pound,
Would haue assured her of life.
Medina.
O Heauens!
Is she not wearie yet of lust and life?
Had it been Cressus wealth, she should haue died;
Her goods by law, are all confiscate to vs,
And die shee shall: her lust
Would make a slaughter house of Italy,
Ere she attain'd to foure and twenty yeeres,
Three Earles, one Vicount, and this valiant Spaniard,
Are knowne to abeene the fuell to her lust:
Besides her secret louers, which charitably
I iudge to haue beene but few, but some they were,
Here is a glasse, wherein to view her soule,
A Noble, but vnfortunate Gentleman,
Cropt by her hand, as some rude passenger
Doth pluck the tender Roses in the budde,
Murder and lust, the least of which is death,
And hath she yet any false hope of breath?
Enter Isabella, with her haire hanging downe, a chaplet of flower on her head, a nosegay in her hand, Executioner before her, and with her a Cardinall
Isabella.
What place is this?
Cardin.
Madame, the Castle greene.
Isab.
There should be dancing on a greene I thinke.
Card.
Madame: to you none other then your dance of death.
Isabell.
Good my Lord Cardinall doe not thunder thus,
I sent to day to my Phisician,
Card.
Good Madame, doe not iest away your soule.
Isab.
O seruant, how hast thou betrai'd my life?
To Sago.
Thou art my dearest louer now I see.
Thou wilt not leaue me, till my very death.
Bless't be thy hand, I sacrifice a kisse
To it and vengeance: worthily thou didst,
He died deseruedly, not content to inioy
My youth and beauty, riches and my fortune:
But like a Chronicler of his owne vice,
In Epigrams and songs, he tun'd my name,
Renown'd me for a Strumpet in the Courts,
Of the French King, and the great Emperor.
Didst thou not kill him druncke.
Medina.
O shamelesse woman!
Isab.
Thou shouldest, or in the embraces of his lust,
It might haue beene a womans vengeance.
Yet I thanke thee Sago, and would not wish him liuing
Were my life instant ransome.
Card.
O Madame: in your soule haue charitie.
Isab.
Ther's money for the poore.
Giues him money.
Card.
O Lady this is but a branch of charitie,
An ostentation, or a liberall pride:
Let me instruct your soule, for that, I feare,
Within the painted sepulcher of flesh,
Lies in a dead consumption: good Madame, read,
giues a booke.
Isab.
You put me to my booke my Lord, will
not that saue me.
Card.
Yes Madame, in the euerlasting world.
Sago.
Amen, Amen.
Isab.
While thou wert my seruant, thou hast euer said,
Amen to all my wishes, witnesse this spectacle:
Wher's my Lord Medina?
Medina.
Here Isabella. What would you?
Isab.
May we not be reprieu'd?
Mine honors past, you may not.
Isab.
No, tis my honor past,
Medina.
Thine honors past indeed.
Isab.
Then ther's no hope of absolute remission.
Medina.
For that your holy Confessor will tell you,
Be dead to this world, for I sweare you dye,
Were you my fathers daughter.
Isab.
Can you doe nothing my Lord Cardinall?
Card.
More then the world sweet Lady, help to saue
What hand of man, wants power to destroy.
Isab.
You'r all for this world, then why not I?
Were you in health and youth, like me my Lord,
Although you merited the crowne of life,
And stood in state of grace, assur'd of it:
Yet in this fearefull separation,
Old as you are, e'ne till your latest gaspe,
You'd craue the help of the Phisition:
And wish your dayes lengthn'd one summer longer,
Though all be griefe, labour and misery,
Yet none will part with it, that I can see.
Medina.
Vp to the scaffold with her, 'tis late.
Isab.
Better late then neuer my good Lord you thinke:
You vse square dealing, Medina's mighty Duke:
Tyrant of France, sent hither by the diuell.
She ascends the Scaffold.
Medina.
The fitter to meete you.
Card.
Peace: Good my Lord in death doe not prouoke her.
Isab.
Seruant low as my destiny I kneele to thee,
To Sago.
Honouring in death, thy manly loyaltie:
And what so e'er become of my poore soule,
The ioyes of both worlds euermore be thine.
Commend me to the Noble Count Guiaca,
That should haue shared thy valour, and my hatred:
Tell him I pray his pardon, and
Medina, art yet inspir'd from heau'n,
Shew thy Creators Image: be like him,
Father of mercy.
Head's man, doe thine office.
Isab.
Now God lay all thy sinnes vpon thy head,
And sinke thee with them, to infernall darknesse,
Thou teacher of the furies cruelty.
Card.
O Madame: teach your selfe a better prayer,
This is your latest hower.
Isab.
He is mine enemie, his sight torments me,
I shall not die in quiet.
Med.
I'le be gone: off with her head there.
Exit.
Isab.
Tak'st thou delight, to torture misery?
Such mercie finde thou in the day of doome.
Enter Roberto Count of Cipres in Friers weeds.
Sould.
My Lord: here is a holy Frier desires,
To haue some conference with the prisoners.
Roberto.
It is in priuate, what I haue to say,
With fauour of your father-hood.
Card.
Frier: in Gods name welcome.
Roberto ascends to Isabella.
Rob.
Lady: it seemes your eye is stil the same,
Forgetfull of what most it should behold,
Doe not you know me then?
Isab.
Holy Sir: so farre you are gone from my memorie,
I must take truce with time, ere I can know you.
Robert.
Beare record all, you blessed Saints in heau'n,
I come not to torment thee in thy death:
For of himselfe hee's terrible enough,
But call to minde a Ladie like your selfe.
And thinke how ill in such a beauteous soule,
Vpon the instant morrow of her nuptials,
Apostasie and vilde reuolt would shew:
With all imagine that she had a Lord,
Iealous, the Aire should rauish her chaste lookes:
Doating like the creator in his models,
Who viewes them euery minute, and with care,
Mixt in his feare of their obedience to him.
Suppose he sung through famous Italy,
More common then the looser songs of Petrarch:
To euery seuerall Zanies instrument,
Might call her back from her Adulterate purpose:
Liues in obscure, and almost vnknowne life,
Till hearing, that she is condemn'd to die:
For he once lou'd her, lends his pined corps,
Motion to bring him to her stage of honour
Where drown'd in woe: at her so dismall chance,
He claspes her: thus he fals into a trance.
Isab.
O my offended Lord lift vp your eyes:
But yet auert them from my loathed sight.
Had I with you inioyed the lawfull pleasure,
To which belongs, nor feare, nor publike shame:
I might haue liu'd in honour, died in fame.
Your pardon on my faultring knees I begge:
Which shall confirme more peace vnto my death,
Then all the graue instructions of the Church.
Roberto.
Pardon belongs vnto my holy weeds,
Freely thou hast it, farewell my Isabella.
Let thy death ransome thy soule, O die a rare example,
The kisse thou gau'st me in the church, here take,
As I leaue thee, so thou the world forsake.
Exit Roberto.
Clarid.
Rare accident, ill welcome noble Lord:
Madame: your executioner desires you to forgiue him.
Isab.
Yes and giue him too, what must I doe my friend?
Executioner.
Madame: onely tie vp your haire.
Isabella.
O these golden nets,
That haue insnar'd so many wanton youthes,
Not one but ha's beene held a thred of life,
And superstitiously depended on,
Now to the block, we must vaile: what else?
Executioner.
Madame: I must intreat you blind your eyes.
Isabella.
I haue liued too long in darknesse my friend:
And yet mine eies with their maiesticque light,
Haue got new Muses, in a Poets spright.
They haue beene more gazed at then the God of Day:
Their brightnes neuer could be flattered,
To Ecclipse eternally these minutes of light.
What else?
Executioner.
Now Madame: al's done,
And when you please, I'le execute my office.
Isabella.
We will be for thee straight.
Giue me your blessing my Lord Cardinall:
Lord, I am well prepar'd:
Murder and lust, downe with my ashes sinke.
But like ingratefull seede perish in earth,
That you may neuer spring against my soule,
Like weedes to choake it in the heauenly haruest,
I fall to rise, mount to thy maker, spirit,
Leaue here thy body, death ha's her demerit.
Strike.
Cardin.
An host of Angels be thy conuey hence.
Medina.
To funerall with her body, and this Lords:
None here I hope can taxe vs of iniustice:
She died deseruedly, and may like fate,
Attend all women so insatiate.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Amago the Duke, the Watch and Senators.
Duke.
I am amazed at this maze of wonder,
Wherein no thred or clue presents it selfe,
To winde vs from the obscure passages,
What saies my Nephew?
Watch.
Still resolute my Lord, and doth confesse the theft.
Duke.
Wee'll vse him like a fellon, cut him off:
For feare he doe pollute our sounder parts.
Yet why should he steale,
That is a loaden Vine? riches to him,
Were adding sands into the Libian shore,
Or farre lesse charitie: what say the other prisoners?
Watch.
Like men my Lord, fit for the other world,
They tak't vpon their death, they slew your Nephew.
Duke.
And he is yet aliue, keepe them asunder
We may sent out the wile.
Rogero.
My friend; is it the rigour of the law
I should be tied thus hard, Ile vndergoe it:
If not, prethee then slacken; yet I haue deseru'd it,
This murder lies heauie on my conscience.
Clarid.
Wedlocke, I here's my wedlocke; O whore, whore,
whore.
Frier.
O Sir be quallified.
Clarid.
Sir: I am to die a dogges death, and will snarle a
little
Which I will leaue out of my execrations: but first
To our quondam wiues, that makes vs cry our Vowels
In red Capitall letters, Iov are cuckolds, O may
Bastard bearing with the panges of childbirth, be
Doubled to him: may they haue euer twins
And be three weekes in trauell betweene, may they be,
So Riuell'd with painting by that time they are thirty, that it
May be held a worke of condigne merit
But to looke vpon 'em, may they liue,
To ride in triumph in a Dung-cart
And be crown'd with al the odious ceremonies belonging too't:
May the cucking stoole be their recreation,
And a dungeon their dying chamber,
May they haue nine liues like a Cat, to endure this and more;
May they be burnt for witches of a sudden,
And lastly, may the opinion of Philosophers
Proue true, that women haue no soules.
Enter Thais and Abigall.
Thais.
What husband? at your prayers so seriously?
Clari.
Yes: a few orisons; Frier, thou that stand'st betweene
The soules of men and the diuell,
Keepe these female spirits away,
Or I will renounce my faith else.
Abig.
Oh husband, I little thought to see you in this taking.
O whore, I little thought to see you in this taking,
I am gouernour of this castle of cornets,
My graue will be stumbl'd at, thou adultrat whore,
I might haue liu'd like a Marchant.
Abig.
So you may still husband.
Rogero.
Peace, thou art verie quicke with me.
Abig.
I by my faith, and so I am husband,
Belike you know I am with child.
Rogero.
A bastard, a bastard, a bastard:
I might haue liu'd like a gentleman,
And now I must die like a Hanger on:
Shew trickes vpon a woodden horse,
And runne through an Alphabet of scuruie faces:
Doe not expect a good looke from me.
Abig.
O mee vnfortunate!
Clarid.
O to thinke whil'st we are singing the last Hymne,
And readie to be turn'd off,
Some new tune is inuenting, by some Metermonger,
To a scuruie Ballad of our death.
Againe at our funerall Sermons,
To haue the Diuine, diuide his text into faire branches:
Oh, flesh and bloud cannot indure it,
Yet I will take it patiently like a graue man,
Hangman, tie not my halter of a true louers knot,
I shall burst it if thou doost.
Thais.
Husband, I doe beseech you on my knees,
I may but speake with you. I'le winne your pardon,
Or with teares like Niobe bedew a—
Clarid.
Hold thy water Crocodile, and say I am bound
To doe thee no harme: were I free yet I could not
Be looser then thou: For thou art a whore.
Agamemnons daughter that was sacrific'd
For a good winde, felt but a blast of the torments:
Thou should'st indure, I'de make thee swownd
Oftner, then that fellow that by his continuall practise
Hopes to become Drum Maior.
But thou hast laught too much at me alreadie, whore.
Iustice O Duke, and let me not hang in suspence.
Abig.
Husband: I'le naile me to the earth, but I'le
Winne your pardon.
My Iewels, iointure, all I haue shall flye:
Apparell, bedding, I'le not leaue a Rugge;
So you may come off fairely.
Clarid.
I'le come off fairely. Then beg my pardon,
I had rather Chirurgions hall should begge my dead bodie
For an Anatomie, then thou begge my life:
Iustice O Duke, and let vs die.
Duke.
Signior, thinke, and dally not with heauen,
But freely tell vs, did you doe the murther?
Rogero.
I haue confest it, to my ghostly father,
And done the Sacrament of penance for it.
What would your highnesse more?
Clar.
The like haue I, what would your highnesse more?
And here before you all tak't o' my death.
Duke.
In Gods name then on to the death with them,
For the poore widdowes that you leaue behinde,
Though by the law, their goods are all confiscate,
Yet wee'll be their good Lord, and giue 'em them.
Clari.
Oh hell of hels. Why did not we hire some villaine to
fire our houses?
Rog.
I thought not of that, my minde was altogether of the
gallowes.
Clar.
May the wealth I leaue behinde me, help to damne her,
And as the cursed fate of curtezan,
What she gleanes with her traded art,
May one as a most due plague cheat from,
In the last dotage of her tired lust,
And leaue her an vnpittied age of woe.
Rogero.
Amen, Amen.
Watchm.
I neuer heard men pray more feruently.
Rogero.
O that a man had the instinct of a Lyon,
But these solaces, these women,
They bring man to gray haires before he be thirtle.
Yet they cast out such mistes of flatterie from their breath,
That a mans lost againe; sure I fell into my marriage bed drunke:
Like the Leopard, well with sober eyes would I had auoided it;
Come graue and hide me from my blasted fame;
O that thou could'st as well conceale my shame.
Exeunt Ambo with officers. Women kneele.
Thais.
Your pardon & your fauor gracious Duke
At once we doe implore, that haue so long.
Deceiu'd your royall expectation,
Assur'd that the Comick knitting vp,
Will moue your spleene, vnto the proper vse,
Of mirth, your naturall inclination:
And wipe away the watery couloured anger,
From your inforced cheeke.
Faire Lord, beguile
Them and your saf't, with a pleasing smile.
Duke.
Now by my life I doe, faire Ladies rise,
I nee'r did purpose any other end,
To them and these designes.
I was inform'd,
Of some notorious errour, as I sate in iudgement.
And doe you heare? these night workes require a Cats eyes,
To impierce deiected darknesse: call back the prisoners.
Enter Clarid. and Rogero, with officers.
Clari.
Now what other troubled newes,
That we must back thus?
Ha's any Senator beg'd my pardon,
Vpon my wiues prostitution to him.
Rog.
What a spight's this, I had kept in my breath of purpose
Thinking to goe away the quieter, and must we now backe?
Duke.
Since you are to die, wee'll giue you winding sheetes,
Wherein you shall be shrouded aliue,
By which we winde out all these miseries.
Segnior Rogero, bestow a while your eye,
And reade here of your true wiues chastity.
Giues him a Letter.
Chastitie? I will sooner expect a Iesuites recantation:
Or the great Turkes conuersion, then her chastitie.
Pardon my leige, I will not trust mine eyes:
Women and Diuels, will deceiue the wise.
Duke.
The like Sir is apparant on your side.
To tother.
Clar.
Who? my wife? chaste? ha's your grace your sense,
I'le sooner beleeue
A coniurer may say his prayers with zeale,
Then her honestie. Had she been an Hermaphrodite
I would scarce hath giuen credit to you,
Let him that hath drunke loue drugs trust a woman,
By heau'n I thinke, the aire is not more common.
Duke.
Then we impose a strict command vpon you:
On your Allegeance, reade what there is writ.
Clar.
A writ of errour, on my life my liege.
Duke.
You'le finde it so I feare.
Cla.
What haue we here the Art of Brachigraphy?
Lookes ont:
Thais.
Hee's stung already, as if his eyes were turn'd on Persies
shield.
Abig.
Yonders our flames, and from the hollow Arches,
Of his quick eyes, comes commet traines of fire:
Bursting like hidden furies, from their Canes,
Reades.
Your's till he sleepe, the sleepe of all
The world, Rogero.
Rogero.
Marry and that Lethergie seize you, reade againe.
Clar.
Thy seruant so made by his stars, Rogero.
Reads againe.
A fire on your wandring starres Rogero.
Rog.
Sathan, why hast thou tempted my wife?
To Clarid.
Cla.
Peace, seducer, I am branded in the forehead
With your starre-marke. May the starres drop vpon thee,
And with their sulphure vapours choake thee, ere thou
Come at the gallowes.
Rogero.
Stretch not my patience Mahomet.
Clarid.
Termagant that will stretch thy patience.
Rogero.
Had I knowne this I would haue poison'd thee in
the Chalice,
Clari.
Slaue, knowst thou this? tis an Appendix to the Letter,
But the greater temptation is hidden within.
I will scowre thy gorge like a Hawke: thou shalt swallow thine owne stone in this letter,
They bustle.
Seal'd and deliuered in the presence of.
Duke.
Keepe them asunder, list to vs, we command.
Clari.
O violent villayne, is not thy hand hereto?
And writ in bloud to shew thy raging lust?
Thais.
Spice of a new halter, when you go a ranging thus like
Deuills, would you might burne for't as they doe.
Rogero.
Thus tis to lye with another mans wife:
He shalbe sure to heare on't againe.
But we are friends, sweet ducke,
kisse her.
And this shall be my maxime all my life,
M A N neuer happy is till in a wife.
Clari.
Here sunke our hate lower then any whirlepoole.
And this chaste kisse I giue thee for thy care.
kisse.
That fame of women full as wise as faire.
Duke.
You haue saued vs a labour in your loue.
But Gentlemen, why stood you so prepostrously?
Would you haue headlong runne to Infamy,
In so defam'd a death?
Rogero.
O my Liege, I had rather rore to death with Phaleris
Bull, then Darius-like, to haue one of my wings extend to Atlas, the other to Europa.
What is a Cuckold learne of me,
Few can tell his pedigree,
Nor his subtill nature conster,
Borne a man, but dyes a monster.
Yet great Antiquaryes say,
They spring from our Methusala,
Who after Noahs flood was found,
To haue his Crest with branches crown'd,
God in Edens happy shade,
This same creature made.
Cuckolds are of womens making.
From whose snares, good Lord deliuer vs.
Clari.
Amen, Amen.
Before I would proue a Cuckold, I would indure a winters Pilgrimage in the Frozen Zone,
Goe starke naked through Muscouia, where the Climate is degrees colder then Ice.
And thus much to all marryed men.
Now I see great reason why
Loue should mary ielousie:
Since mans best of life is fame,
He had neede preserue the same.
When tis in a womans keeping,
Let not Argos eyes be sleeping.
The poxe is vnto Panders giuen
By the better powers of heauen.
That contaynes pure chastity,
And each Virgin soueraignety,
Wantonly she op't and lost:
Gift whereof, a God might boast.
Therefore shouldst thou Diana wed,
Yet be iealous of her bed.
Duke.
Night, like a Masque, is entred heauens great hall,
With thousand Torches vshering the way:
To Risus will wee consecrate this Euening,
Like Missermis cheating of the brack.
Weele make this night the day. Faire ioyes befall
Vs and our Actions. Are you pleased all?
Exeunt omnes.
FINIS.
| The Insatiate Countesse | |