 | The Insatiate Countesse |  |
[Actus primi]
The Countesse of Sweuia discouered sitting at a Table couered with blacke, on which stands two blacke Tapers lighted, she in mourning.Enter Roberto Count of Cypres, Gvido Count of Arsena, and Signior Mizaldvs.
Mizaldus.
What should we doe in this Countesses darke hole?
She's sullenly retyred, as the Turtle:
Euery day has beene a blacke day with her since
her husband dyed, and what should wee vnruly
members make here?
Guid.
As melancholy night masques vp heauens face,
So doth the Euening-starre present her selfe
Vnto the carefull Shepheards gladsome eyes,
By which vnto the folde he leades his flocke.
Mizald.
Zounds what a sheepish beginning is here? 'tis
said true, Loue is simple; and it may well hold, and thou art a
simple louer.
Rober.
See how yond Starre like beauty in a cloud,
Illumines darknesse, and beguiles the Moone
Of all her glory in the firmament.
Well said man i'the Moone. Was euer such Astronomers?
Marry I feare none of these will fall into the right
Ditch.
Robert.
Madame.
Count.
Ha Anna, what are my doores vnbarr'd?
Miz.
Ile assure you the way into your Ladiship is open.
Rob.
And God defend that any prophane hand
Should offer sacriledge to such a Saint.
Louely Isabella, by this dutious kisse,
That drawes part of my Soule along with it,
Had I but thought my rude intrusion
Had wak'd the Doue-like spleene harbour'd within you,
Life and my first borne should not satisfie
Such a transgression, worthy of a checke,
But that Immortals wincke at my offence,
Makes me presume more boldly: I am come
To raise you from this so infernall sadnesse.
Isab.
My Lord of Cypres, doe not mocke my griefe:
Teares are as due a Tribute to the dead,
As feare to God, and duty vnto Kings,
Loue to the Iust, or hate vnto the Wicked.
Rober.
Surcease.
Beleeue it is a wrong vnto the Gods:
They saile against the winde that waile the dead.
And since his heart hath wrestled with deaths pangs,
From whose sterne Caue none tracts a backward path.
Leaue to lament this necessary change,
And thanke the Gods, for they can giue as good.
Isab.
I waile his losse! Sinke him tenne cubites deeper,
I may not feare his resurrection:
I will be sworne vpon the holy Writ
I morne thus seruent cause, he di'd no sooner:
Hee buried me aliue,
And mued mee vp like Cretan Dedalus,
And with wall-ey'd Ielousie kept me from hope
Of any waxen wings to flye to pleasure.
But now his soule her Argos eyes hath clos'd,
In the first flow of youth vse you the sweets
Due to your proper beauties, ere the ebbe
And long waine of vnwelcome change shall come.
Faire women play: she's chaste whom none will haue.
Here is a man of a most milde aspect,
Temperate, effeminate, and worthy loue,
One that with burning ardor hath pursued me:
A donatiue he hath of euery God;
Apollo gaue him lockes, Ioue his high front,
The God of Eloquence his flowing speech,
The feminine Deities strowed all their bounties
And beautie on his face: that eye was Iuno's,
Those lips were his that wonne the golden Ball,
That virgin-blush Diana's: here they meete,
As in a sacred Synod. My Lords, I must intreate
A while your wisht forbearance.
Omnes.
We obey you Lady.
Exit Guido and Mizald. Ma. Rob.
Is.
My Lord, with you I haue some conference.
I pray my Lord, doe you woo euery Lady
In this phrase you doe me?
Rob.
Fairest, till now,
Loue was an Infant in my Oratory.
Isab.
And kisse thus too?
Rob.
I nee'r was so kist, leaue thus to please,
Flames into flames, seas thou pour'st into seas.
Isab.
Pray frowne my Lord, let me see how many wiues
You'll haue. Heigh-ho, you'll bury me I see.
Rob.
In the Swans downe, and tombe thee in mine armes.
Isab.
Then folkes shall pray in vaine to send me rest.
Away, you're such another medling Lord.
Rob.
By heauen my loue's as chaste as thou art faire,
And both exceede comparison: by this kisse,
That crownes me Monarch of another world
Superiour to the first, faire, thou shalt see
As vnto heauen, my loue so vnto thee.
Isab.
Alas poore creatures, when we are once o'the falling hand,
It is as hard for vs to hide our loue,
As to shut sinne from the Creators eyes.
Ifaith my Lord, I had a Months minde vnto you,
As tedious as a full rip'd Maidenhead.
And Count of Cypres, thinke my loue as pure,
As the first opening of the bloomes in May;
Your vertues man; nay, let me not blush to say so:
And see for your sake thus I leaue to sorrow.
Beginne this subtile coniuration with mee,
And as this Taper, due vnto the dead,
I here extinguish, so my late dead Lord
I put out euer from my memory,
That his remembrance may not wrong our loue.
Puts out the Taper.
As bold-fac'd women when they wed another,
Banquet their husbands with their dead loues heads.
Rob.
And as I sacrifice this to his Ghost,
With this expire all corrupt thoughts of youth,
That fame-insatiate Diuell Iealousie,
And all the sparkes that may bring vnto flame,
Hate betwixt man and wife or breed defame.
Enter Mizaldvs and Mendosa.
Guid.
Marry Amen, I say: Madame, are you that were in
for all day, now come to be in for all night? How now Count
Arsena?
Miz.
Faith Signior not vnlike the condemn'd malefactor,
That heares his iudgement openly pronounc'd;
But I ascribe to Fate, Ioy swell your loue,
Cypres, and Willow grace my drooping crest.
Rober.
We doe entend our Hymeneall rights
With the next rising Sunne. Count Cypres,
Next to our Bride, the welcomst to our feast.
Count. Ars.
Saneta Maria, what thinkst thou of this change?
A Players passion Ile beleeue hereafter,
And in a Tragicke Sceane weepe for olde Priam,
When fell reuenging Pirrhus with supposde
And artificiall wounds mangles his breast,
Then trust a female mourning ore her loue:
Naught that is done of woman shall me please,
Natures step-children rather her desire.
Miz.
Learne of a well composed Epigram,
A womans loue, and thus 'twas sung vnto vs:
The Tapers that stood on her husbands hearse,
Isabell' aduances to a second bed:
Is it not wondrous strange for to rehearse
Shee should so soone forget her husband dead;
One houre? for if the husbands life once fade,
Both loue and husband in one graue are laid.
But we forget our selues, I am for the marriage
Of Signior Claridiana, and the fine Mr i s. Abigall.
Count. Ars.
I for his arch-foes wedding Signior Rogero,
and the spruce M
r
i
s. Thais: but see, the solemne rites are ended,
and from their seuerall Temples they are come.
Mizal.
A quarrell on my life.
Enter at one doore Signior Claridiana, Abigal his wife, the Lady Lentvlvs with Rosemary as from Church. At the other doore Signior Rogero and Thais his wife, Mendosa Foscarii, Nephew to the Duke, from the Bridall, they see one another, and draw, Count Arsena and others step betweene them.
Clarid.
Good my Lord detaine me not, I will tilt at him.
Rogero.
Remember, Sir, this is your wedding day,
And that triumph belongs onely to your wife.
Rogero.
If you be noble let me cut off his head.
Clarid.
Remember o'the other side, you haue a maiden-head
of your owne to cut off.
Rog.
Ile make my marriage day like to the bloudy bridal
Alcides by the fierie Centaurs had.
Thais.
Husband, deare Husband!
Rog.
Away with these catterwallers.
Come on sir.
Clarid.
Thou sonne of a Iew.
Guid.
Alas poore wench, thy husband's circumcis'd.
Begot when thy fathers face was toward th'East,
To shew that thou would'st proue a Caterpiller:
His Messias shall not saue thee from me,
Ile send thee to him in collops.
Arsen.
O fry not in choler so Sir.
Roger.
Mountebancke with thy Pedanticall action,
Rimatrix, Buglors, Rhimocers.
Mend.
Gentlemen, I coniure you
By the vertues of men.
Rog.
Shall any broken Quacksaluers Bastard oppose him
to mee in my Nuptials? No, but Ile shew him better mettall
then ere the Gallemawfrey his father vsed. Thou scumme
of his melting pots, that wert christned in a Crusoile, vvith
Mercuries water, to shew thou would'st proue a stinging Aspis;
for all thou spitst is Aqua fortis, and thy breath is a compound
of poysons stillatory: if I get within thee, hadst thou
the scaly hyde of a Crocodile, as thou art partly of his nature,
I would leaue thee as bare as an Anatomy at the second
veiwing.
Clarid.
Thou Iew, of the Tribe of Gad, that sure, there
were none here but thou and I, would'st teach mee the Art
of breathing, thou wouldst runne like a Dromidatie.
Clar.
Thou that art the tal'st man of Christendome; when
thou art alone, if thou dost maintaine this to my face, Ile
make thee skip like an Ounce.
Mend.
Nay, good sir, be you still.
Roger.
Let the Quacksaluers sonne be still:
His father was still, and still, and still againe.
Clarid.
By the Almighty Ile study Negromancy but Ile
be reueng'd.
Arsen.
Gentlemen, leaue these dissentions,
Signior Rogero, you are a man of worth.
Clarid.
True, all the Citie points at him for a Knaue.
Arsen.
You are of like reputation Signior Claridiana:
The hatred twixt your Grandsires first beganne,
Impute it to the folly of that age.
These your dissentions may erect a faction,
Mend.
Put it to equall arbitration, choose your friends,
The Senators will thinke'em happy in't.
Miz.
Ile ne'er embrace the smoake of a Furnace, the quintessence
of minerall or simples, or as I may say more learnedly, nor
the spirit of Quickesiluer.
Clarid.
Nor I such a Centaure, halfe a man, halfe an Asse, and
all a Iew.
Arsen.
Nay, then wee will be Constables, and force a quiet:
Gentlemen, keepe'em asunder, and helpe to perswade'em.
Exeunt all the Men. Manet Lent. Thais. Abig. and Mend.
Mend.
Well Ladyes, your Husbands behaue'em as lustily on
their wedding dayes, as ere I heard any. Nay Lady widow, you
and I must haue a falling: you're of Signior Mizaldus faction,
and I am your vowed enemie, from the bodkin to the pincase.
Harke in your eare.
Abigall.
Well Thais, O you're a cunning caruer: we two that
any time these fourteene yeeres haue called sisters, brought and
bred vp together: that haue tolde one another all our wanton
dreames, talkt all night-long of youngmen, and spent many an
idle houre, fasted vpon the stones on S. Agnes night together,
practised all the petulant amorousnesses that delights young
Maides, yet haue you conceal'd not onely the marriage, but
the man: and well you might deceiue mee, for Ile be sworne
you neuer dream'd of him, and it stands against all reason you
should enioy him you neuer dream'd of.
Thais.
Is not all this the same in you? Did you euer manifest
your Sweet-harts nose, that I might nose him by't? commended
his calfe, or his neather-lip? apparant signes that you were
not in loue or wisely couered it. Haue you euer said, such a man
goes vpright, or has a better gate then any of the rest, as indeed,
since he is proued a Magnifico, I thought thou wouldst haue put
it into my hands what ere 'thad beene.
Abig.
Well wench, wee haue crosse fates: our Husbands such
inueterate foes, and we such entire friends, but the best is we are
neighbours, and our backe Arbors may afford visitation freely:
prethee let vs maintaine our familiaritie still whatsoeuer thy husband
doe vnto thee, as I am afraid he will crosse it i'the nicke.
Faith, you little one, If I please him in one thing, he
shall please mee in all, that's certaine. Who shall I haue to keepe
my counsell if I misse thee? who shall teach mee to vse the
bridle, when the reynes are in mine owne hand? what to longfor?
when to take Physicke? where to be melancholy? why, we two
are one anothers grounds, without which would be no Musicke.
Abig.
Well said wench, and the Pricke-song wee vse shall be
our husbands.
Thais.
I will long for Swines-flesh o'the first childe.
Abig.
Wilt'ou little Iew? And I to kisse thy husband
Vpon the least belly-ake. This will mad'em.
Thais.
I kisse thee wench for that, and with it confirme our
friendship.
Mend.
By these sweet lips Widow.
Lady Lent.
Good my Lord learne to sweare by roate:
Your birth and fortune makes my braine suppose,
That like a man heated with wines and lust,
Shee that is next your obiect is your mate,
Till the soule water haue quencht out the fire.
You the Dukes kinsman, tell me, I am young,
Faire, rich, and vertuous; I my selfe will flatter
My selfe, till you are gone, that are more faire,
More rich, more vertuous, and more debonaire:
All which are ladders to an higher reach:
Who drinkes a puddle that may taste a spring?
Who kisse a Subiect that may hugge a King?
Mend.
Yes, the Cammell alwayes drinkes in puddle water,
And as for huggings reade Antiquities.
Faith, Madame, Ile bord thee one of these dayes.
Lady.
I, but ne'er bed mee my Lord: my vow is firme
Since God hath called mee to this noble state,
Much to my griefe, of vertuous Widow-hood,
No man shall euer come within my gates.
Mend.
Wilt thou ram vp thy porch-hold? O widow, I perceiue
You're ignorant of the Louers legerdemane.
There is a fellow that by Magicke will assist
To murther Princes inuisible, I can command his spirit.
I can tell you, I am a mad wag-halter:
But by the vertue I see seated in you,
And by the worthy fame is blazond of you,
By little Cupid, that is mighty nam'd,
And can command my looser follies downe,
I loue, and must enioy, yet with such limits,
As one that knowes inforced marriage
To be the Furies sister. Thinke of me.
Amb.
Ha, ha, ha.
Mend.
How now Lady, does the toy take you, as they say?
Abig.
No, my Lord, nor doe we take your toy, as they say.
This is a childes birth, that must not be deliuered before a man,
Though your Lordship might be a Mid-wife for your chinne.
Mend.
Some bawdy riddle is't not? you long til't be night.
Thais.
No, my Lord, womens longing comes after their marriage
night. Sister, see you be constant now.
Abig.
Why, dost thinke Ile make my Husband a Cuckold?
O here they come.
Enter at seuerall doores Count Ars. with Claridiana: Gvido, with Rogero, at another doore, Mendosa meetes them.
Mend.
Signior Rogero, are you yet qualified?
Rogero.
Yes: does any man thinke Ile goe like a sheepe to the
slaughter? Hands off my Lord, your Lordship may chance come
vnder my hands: If you doe, I shall shew my selfe a Citizen, and
reuenge basely.
Clarid.
I thinke if I were receiuing the holy Sacrament
His sight would make me gnash my teeth terribly:
But there's the beauty without paralell,
To Abigall.
In whom the Graces and the Vertues meete:
In her aspect milde Honour sits and smiles:
And who lookes there, were it the sauage Beare,
But would deriue new nature from her eyes.
But to be reconcil'd simply for him,
Were mankinde to be lost againe, Ide let it,
And a new heape of stones should stocke the world.
In heauen and earth this power beauty hath,
What ere thou art, mine art thou wise or chaste:
I shall set hard vpon thy marriage vow,
And write reuenge high in thy Husbands brow,
In a strange Character. You may beginne sir.
Mend.
Signior Claridiana, I hope Signior Rogero
Thus employed me about a good office,
'Twere worthy Cicerces tongue, a famous Oration now?
But friendship that is mutually embraced of the Gods,
And is Ioues Vsher to each sacred Sinod,
Without the which hee could not raigne in heauen,
That ouer-goes my admiration shall not vnder-goe my censure.
These hot flames of rage, that else will be
As fire midst your nuptiall Iolitie,
Burning the edge off from the present Ioy,
And keepe you wake to terror.
Clarid.
I haue not yet swallowed the Rhimatrix nor the Onocentaure,
the Rimocheros was monstrous.
Arsen.
Sir, be you of the more flexible nature, and confesse
an error.
Clarid.
I must, the Gods of loue command,
And that bright Starre, her eye, that guides my fate.
Signior Rogero, ioy then Signior Rogero.
Rog.
Signior, sir, O Diuell.
Thais.
Good Husband shew your selfe a temp'rate man,
Your mother was a woman I dare sweare;
No Tyger got you, nor no Beare was riuall
In your conception: you seeme like the issue
The Painters limbe leaping from Enuies mouth,
That deuoures all hee meetes.
Rog.
Had the last, or the least Syllable
Of this more then immortall eloquence,
Commenc'd to mee when rage had beene so high
Within my bloud, that it ore-topt my soule,
Like to the Lyon when he heares the sound
Of Dian's Bowe-string in some shady wood,
I should haue coucht my lowly limbe on earth,
Clarid.
Slaue, I will fight with thee at any oddes,
Or name an instrument fit for destruction,
That ne'er was made to make away a man,
Ile meete thee on the ridges of the Alpes,
Or some inhospitable wildernesse,
Starke naked, at push-of-pike, or keene Curt'laxe,
At Turkish Sickle, Babilonian Sawe,
The auncient Hookes of great Cadwalleder,
Or any other heathen inuention.
Thais.
O God blesse the man.
Lent.
Counsell him good my Lord.
Mend.
Our tongues are weary, and he desperate,
He does refuse to heare: What shall we doe?
Clarid.
I am not mad, I can heare, I can see, I can feele,
But a wise rage in man, wrongs past compare,
Should be well nourisht as his vertues are:
Ide haue it knowne vnto each valiant sp'rit.
He wrongs no man that to himselfe does right.
Catzo I ha'done, Signior Rogero, I ha'done.
Arsen.
By heauen this voluntary reconsilation made
Freely, and of it selfe, argues vnfaign'd
And vertuous knot of loue. So sirs embrace.
Rog.
Sir, by the conscience of a Catholike man,
And by our mother Church that bindes
And doth attone in amitie with God,
The soules of men, that they with men be one,
I tread into the center all the thoughts
Of ill in mee, toward you, and memory
Of what from you might ought disparage mee,
Wishing vnfaignedly it may sincke low,
And as vntimely births want power to grow.
Mend.
Christianly said: Signior what would you haue more?
Clar.
And so I sweare, you're honest Onocentaure.
Arsen.
Nay see now, fie vpon your turbulent spirit,
Did he doo't in this forme?
Clar.
If you thinke not this sufficient, you shall commaund
Mind.
S'blood, what will you doe?
Clar.
Well, giue mee your hands first, I am friends with you
i'faith: thereupon I embrace you, kisse your Wife, and God giue
vs ioy.
To Thais.
Thais.
You meane me and my husband.
Clar.
You take the meaning better then the speech, Lady.
Roger.
The like wish I, but ne'er can be the like,
And therefore wish I thee.
Clar.
By this bright light that is deriu'd from thee.
Thais.
So sir, you make me a very light creature.
Clar.
But that thou art a blessed Angell, sent
Downe from the Gods t'attone mortall men,
I would haue thought deedes beyond all mens thoughts,
And executed more vpon his corps:
Oh let him thanke the beautie of this eye,
And not his resolute sword or destinie.
Arsen.
What saist thou Mizaldus, come applaud this Iubile,
A day these hundred yeeres before not truely knowne,
To these diuided factions.
Clar.
No nor this day had it beene falsely borne,
But that I meane to sound it with his horne.
Miz.
I lik'd the former iarre better: then they shew'd like
men and Souldiers; now like Cowards and Leachers.
Arsen.
Well said Mizaldus: thou art like the Base Violl in a
Consort, let the other Instrument wish and delight in your highest
sense, thou art still grumbling.
Clar.
Nay, sweet receiue it,
Giues it Abigall.
And in it my heart:
And when thou read'st a mouing syllable
Thinke that my soule was Secretary to't.
It is your loue, and not the odious wish
Of my reuenge, in stiling him a Cuckold,
Makes mee presume thus farre: then reade it faire,
My passion's ample as your beauties are.
Abig.
Well sir, we will not sticke with you.
And Gentlemen, since it hath hapt so fortunately,
I doe entreat wee may all meete to morrow,
In some Heroick Masque, to grace the Nuptials
Of the most noble Countesse of Sweuia.
Mend.
Who does the young Count marry?
Arsen.
O sir, who but the very heire of all her sexe,
That beares the Palme of beautie from'em all:
Others compar'd to her, shew like faint Starres
To the full Moone of wonder in her face:
The Lady Isabella, the late Widow
To the deceast and noble Vicount Hermus.
Mend.
Law you there, widow, there's one of the last edition,
Whose Husband yet retaines in his colde truncke
Some little ayring of his noble guest,
Yet she a fresh Bride as the month of May.
Lent.
Well my Lord, I am none of these,
That haue my second Husband bespoke,
My doore shall be a testimonie of it.
And but these noble Marriages encite me,
My much abstracted presence should haue shew'd it.
If you come to me, harke in your eare my Lord,
Looke your Ladder of ropes be strong,
For I shall tie you to your Tackling.
Arsen.
Gentlemen, your answere to the Masque.
Omnes.
Your Honour leades, wee'll follow.
Rogero.
Signior Claridiana.
Clarid.
I attend you sir.
Abigall.
You'll be constant.
Exeunt omnes. Manet Clarid.
Clar.
Aboue the Adamant the Goates bloud shall not breake me,
Yet shallow fooles, and plainer morall men,
That vnderstand not vvhat they vndertake,
Fall in their owne snares, or come short of vengeance,
No, let the Sunne view vvith an open face,
And afterward shrinke in his blushing cheekes,
Asham'd, and cursing of the fixt de cree,
That makes his light bawd to the crimes of men,
When I haue ended what I now deuise.
Strumpet his wife, branch my false-seeming friend,
And make him foster what my hate begot,
A bastard, that when age and sicknesse seaze him,
Shall be a cor'siue to his griping heart:
Ile write to her, for what her modestie
Will not permit, nor my adulterate forcing,
That blushlesse Herauld shall not feare to tell:
Rogero shall know yet that his foe's a man,
And what is more, a true Italian.
Exit.
| The Insatiate Countesse | |