 | The Revengers Tragaedie [by Thomas Middleton] |  |
ACTVS. 2.
SCÆ. I.
Enter Castiza the sister.Cast.
How hardly shall that mayden be beset,
Whose onely fortunes, are her constant thoughts,
That has no other childes-part but her honor,
That Keepes her lowe; and empty in estate.
Maydes and their honors are like poore beginners,
Were not sinne rich there would be fewer sinners;
Why had not vertue a reuennewe? well,
I know the cause, twold haue impouerish'd hell.
How now Dondolo.
Don.
Madona, there is one as they say a thing of flesh and
blood, a man I take him by his beard that would very desireously
mouth to mouth with you.
Cast.
Whats that?
Don.
Show his teeth in your company,
Cast.
I vnderstand thee not;
Don.
Why speake with you Madona!
Cast.
Why say so mad-man, and cut of a great deale of durty
way; had it not beene better spoke in ordinary words that one
would speake with me.
Don.
Ha, ha, thats as ordinary as two shillings, I would striue
to vse the Phrase and fanzye of a seruingman.
Cast.
Yours be your one sir, go direct him hether,
I hope some happy tidings from my brother,
That lately trauayld, whome my soule affects.
Here he comes.
Enter Vindice her brother disguised.
Uin.
Lady the best of wishes to your sexe.
Faire skins and new gownes,
Cast.
Oh they shall thanke you sir,
Whence this,
Vin.
Oh from a deere and worthy friend, mighty!
Cast.
From whome?
Vin.
The Dukes sonne!
Cast.
Receiue that!
A boxe ath eare to her Brother.
I swore I'de put anger in my hand,
And passe the Virgin limits of my selfe,
To him that next appear'd in that base office,
To be his sinnes Atturney, beare to him,
That figure of my hate vpon thy cheeke
Whilst tis yet hot, and Ile reward thee fort,
Tell him my honor shall haue a rich name,
When seuerall harlots shall share his with shame,
Farewell commend me to him in my hate!
Exit.
Vin.
It is the sweetest Boxe,
That ere my nose came nye,
The finest drawne-worke cuffe that ere was worne,
Ile loue this blowe for euer, and this cheeke
Shall still hence forward take the wall of this.
Oh Ime a boue my tong: most constant sister,
In this thou hast right honorable showne,
Many are cald by their honour that haue none,
Thou art approu'd for euer in my thoughts.
It is not in the power of words to taynt thee,
And yet for the saluation of my oth,
As my resolue in that poynt; I will lay,
Hard seige vnto my Mother, tho I know,
Masse fitly here she comes, thankes my disguize,
Madame good afternoone.
Moth.
Y'are welcome sir?
Vind.
The Next of Italy commends him to you,
Our mighty expectation, the Dukes sonne.
Moth.
I thinke my selfe much honord, that he pleases,
To ranck me in his thoughts.
Vind.
So may you Lady:
One that is like to be our suddaine Duke,
The Crowne gapes for him euery tide, and then
Commander ore vs all, do but thinke on him,
How blest were they now that could pleasure him
E'en with any thing almost.
Moth.
I, saue their honor?
Vind.
Tut, one would let a little of that go too
And nere be seene in't: nere be seene it, marke you,
Ide winck and let it go—
Moth.
Marry but I would not.
Vind.
Marry but I would I hope, I know you would too,
If youd that bloud now which you gaue your daughter,
To her indeed tis, this wheele comes about,
That man that must be all this, perhaps ere morning
(For his white father do's but moulde away)
Has long desirde your daughter.
Moth.
Desirde?
Uind.
Nay but heare me,
He desirs now that will command hereafter,
Therefore be wise, I speake as more a friend
To you then him; Madam, I know y'are poore,
And lack the day, there are too many poore Ladies already
Why should you vex the number? tis despisd,
Liue wealthy, rightly vnderstand the world,
And chide away that foolish—Country girle
Keepes company with your daughter, chastity,
Moth.
Oh fie, fie, the riches of the world cannot hire a mother
to such a most vnnaturall taske.
Vind.
No, but a thousand Angells can,
Men haue no power, Angells must worke you too't,
That forty Angells can make fourescore diuills,
There will be fooles still I perceiue, still foole.
Would I be poore deiected, scornd of greatnesse,
Swept from the Pallace, and see other daughters
Spring with the dewe ath Court, hauing mine owne
So much desir'd and lou'd—by the Dukes sonne,
No, I would raise my state vpon her brest
And call her eyes my Tennants, I would count
My yearely maintenance vpon her cheekes:
Take Coach vpon her lip, and all her partes
Should keepe men after men, and I would ride,
In pleasure vpon pleasure:
You tooke great paines for her, once when it was,
Let her requite it now, tho it be but some
You brought her forth, she may well bring you home,
Moth.
O heauens! this ouer-comes me?
Vind.
Not I hope, already?
Moth.
It is too strong for me, men know that know vs,
We are so weake their words can ouerthrow vs,
He toucht me neerely made my vertues bate
When his tongue struck vpon my poore estate.
Vind.
I e'en quake to proceede, my spirit turnes edge?
I feare me she's vnmotherd, yet ile venture,
“That woman is all male, whome none can Enter?
What thinke you now Lady, speake are you wiser?
What sayd aduancement to you: thus it sayd!
The daughters fal lifts vp the mothers head:
Did it not Madame? but ile sweare it does
In many places, tut, this age feares no man,
“Tis no shame to be bad, because tis common.
Moth.
I that's the comfort on't.
Vind.
The comfort on't!
I keepe the best for last, can these perswade you
To forget heauen—and—
Moth.
I these are they?
Vind.
Oh!
Moth.
That enchant our sexe,
These are the means that gouerne our affections,—that woman
That sees the comfortable shine of you,
I blush to thinke what for your sakes Ile do!
Vind.
O suffring heauen with thy inuisible finger,
Ene at this Instant turne the pretious side
Of both mine eye-balls inward, not to see my selfe,
Mot.
Looke you sir.
Vin.
Holla.
Mot.
Let this thanke your paines.
Vind.
O you'r a kind Mad-man;
Mot.
Ile see how I can moue,
Vind.
Your words will sting,
Mot.
If she be still chast Ile nere call her mine,
Vind.
Spoke truer then you ment it,
Mot.
Daughter Castiza.
Cast.
Madam,
Uind.
O shees yonder.
Meete her: troupes of celestiall Soldiers gard her heart.
Yon dam has deuills ynough to take her part,
Cast.
Madam what makes yon euill offic'd man,
In presence of you;
Mot.
Why?
Cast.
He lately brought
Immodest writing sent from the Dukes sonne
To tempt me to dishonorable Act,
Mot.
Dishonorable Act?—good honorable foole,
That wouldst be honest cause thou wouldst be so,
Producing no one reason but thy will.
And t'as a good report, pretely commended,
But pray by whome; meane people; ignorant people,
The better sort Ime sure cannot abide it,
And by what rule shouldst we square out our liues,
But by our betters actions? oh if thou knew'st
What t'were to loose it, thou would neuer keepe it:
But theres a cold curse layd vpon all Maydes,
Whilst other clip the Sunne they clasp the shades!
Virginity is paradice, lockt vp.
You cannot come by your selues without fee.
And twas decreed that man should keepe the key!
Deny aduancement, treasure, the Dukes sonne,
Cast.
I cry you mercy. Lady I mistooke you,
Pray God I haue not lost her.
Vind.
Prittily put by.
Moth.
Are you as proud to me as coye to him?
Doe you not know me now?
Cast.
Why are you shee?
The worlds so changd, one shape into another,
It is a wise childe now that knowes her mother?
Vind.
Most right ifaith.
Mother.
I owe your cheeke my hand,
For that presumption now, but Ile forget it,
Come you shall leaue those childish hauiours,
And vnderstand your Time, Fortunes flow to you,
What will you be a Girle?
If all feard drowning, that spye waues a shoare,
Gold would grow rich, and all the Marchants poore.
Cast.
It is a pritty saying of a wicked one, but me thinkes now
It dos not show so well out of your mouth,
Better in his.
Vind.
Faith bad inough in both,
Were I in earnest as Ile seeme no lesse?
I wonder Lady your owne mothers words,
Cannot be taken, nor stand in full force.
'Tis honestie you vrge; what's honestie?
'Tis but heauens beggar; and what woman is so foolish to keepe honesty,
And be not able to keepe her-selfe? No,
Times are growne wiser and will keepe lesse charge,
A Maide that h'as small portion now entends,
To breake vp house, and liue vpon her friends
How blest are you, you haue happinesse alone,
Others must fall to thousands, you to one,
Sufficient in him-selfe to make your fore-head
Dazle the world with Iewels, and petitionary people
Start at your presence.
Mother.
Oh if I were yong, I should be rauisht.
Cast.
I to loose your honour.
Vind.
Slid how can you loose your honor?
Heele adde more honour to it by his Title,
Your Mother will tell you how.
Mother.
That I will.
Vind.
O thinke vpon the pleasure of the Pallace,
Secured ease and state; the stirring meates,
Ready to moue out of the dishes, that e'en now quicken when their eaten,
Banquets abroad by Torch-light, Musicks, sports,
Bare-headed vassailes, that had nere the fortune
To keepe on their owne Hats, but let hornes were em.
Nine Coaches waiting—hurry, hurry, hurry.
Cast.
I to the Diuill.
Vind.
I to the Diuill, toth' Duke by my faith.
Moth.
I to the Duke: daughter youde scorne to thinke ath'
Diuill and you were there once.
Vin.
True, for most there are as proud as he for his heart ifaith
Who'de sit at home in a neglected roome,
Dealing her short-liu'de beauty to the pictures,
That are as vse-lesse as old men, when those
Poorer in face and fortune then her-selfe,
Walke with a hundred Acres on their backs,
Faire Medowes cut into Greene fore-parts—oh
It was the greatest blessing euer happened to women;
When Farmers sonnes agreed, and met agen,
To wash their hands, and come vp Gentlemen;
The common-wealth has flourisht euer since,
Lands that were meat by the Rod, that labors spar'd,
Taylors ride downe, and measure em by the yeard;
Faire trees, those comely fore-tops of the Field,
Are cut to maintaine head-tires—much vntold,
All thriues but Chastity, she lyes a cold,
Nay shall I come neerer to you, marke but this:
Why are there so few honest women, but because 'tis the poorer
profession, that's accounted best, thats best followed, least in
trade, least in fashion, and thats not honesty beleeue it, and doe
but note the loue and deiected price of it:
But that once gone, who is so mad to looke it.
Troth he sayes true.
Cast.
False, I defie you both:
I haue endur'd you with an eare of fire,
Your Tongues haue struck hotte yrons on my face;
Mother, come from that poysonous woman there.
Mother.
Where?
Cast.
Do you not see her, shee's too inward then:
Slaue perish in thy office: you heauens please,
Hence-forth to make the Mother a disease,
Which first begins with me, yet I'ue out-gon you.
Exit.
Vind.
O Angels clap your wings vpon the skyes,
And giue this Virgin Christall plaudities?
Mot.
Peeuish, coy, foolish, but returne this answer,
My Lord shall be most welcome, when his pleasure
Conducts him this way, I will sway mine owne,
Women with women can worke best alone.
Exit.
Vind.
Indeed Ile tell him so;
O more vnciuill, more vnnaturall,
Then those base-titled creatures that looke downe-ward,
Why do's not heauen tnrne black, or with a frowne
Vndoo the world—why do's not earth start vp,
And strike the sinnes that tread vppon't—oh;
Wert not for gold and women; there would be no damnation,
Hell would looke like a Lords Great Kitchin without fire in't;
But 'twas decreed before the world began,
That they should be the hookes to catch at man.
Exit.
Enter Lussurioso, with Hippolito, Vindicies brother.
Luss.
I much applaud thy iudgement, thou art well read in a
fellow,
I know this, which I neuer learnt in schooles,
The world's diuided into knaues and fooles.
Hip.
Knaue in your face my Lord, behinde your back.
Luss.
And I much thanke thee, that thou hast preferd,
A fellow of discourse—well mingled,
And whose braine Time hath seasond.
Hip.
True my Lord,
To make such an vnnaturall slaue of me;—but—
Luss.
Masse here he comes.
Hip.
And now shall I haue free leaue to depart.
Luss.
Your absence, leaue vs.
Hip.
Are not my thoughts true?
I must remooue; but brother you may stay,
Heart, we are both made Bawdes a new-found way?
Exit.
Luss.
Now, we're an euen number? a third mans dangerous,
Especially her brother, say, be free,
Haue I a pleasure toward.
Vind.
Oh my Lord.
Luss.
Rauish me in thine answer, art thou rare,
Hast thou beguilde her of saluation,
And rubd hell ore with hunny; is she a woman?
Vind.
In all but in Desire.
Luss.
Then shee's in nothing,—I bate in courage now.
Vind.
The words I brought,
Might well haue made indifferent honest, naught,
A right good woman in these dayes is changde,
Into white money with lesse labour farre,
Many a Maide has turn'd to Mahomet,
With easier working; I durst vndertake
Vpon the pawne and forfeit of my life.
With halfe those words to flat a Puritanes wife,
But she is closse and good;—yet 'tis a doubt by this time; oh
the mother, the mother?
Luss.
I neuer thought their sex had beene a wonder,
Vntill this minute? what fruite from the Mother?
Vind.
Now must I blister my soule, be forsworne,
Or shame the woman that receiu'd mee first,
I will be true, thou liu'st not to proclaime,
Spoke to a dying man, shame ha's no shame.
My Lord.
Luss.
Whose that?
Vind.
Heres none but I my Lord.
Luss.
What would thy hast vtter?
Vind.
Comfort.
Luss.
Welcome.
Vind.
The Maide being dull, hauing no minde to trauell,
Into vnknowne lands, what did me I straight,
Will put her to a false gallop in a trice,
Luss.
Ist possible that in this.
The Mother should be dambd before the daughter?
Vin.
Oh, that's good manners my Lord, the Mother for her
age must goe formost you know.
Lu.
Thou'st spoke that true but where comes in this comfort.
Vind.
In a fine place my Lord—the vnnaturall mother,
Did with her tong so hard be set her honor,
That the poore foole was struck to silent wonder,
Yet still the maid like an vnlighted Taper,
Was cold and chast, saue that her Mothers breath,
Did blowe fire on her checkes, the girle departed,
But the good antient Madam halfe mad, threwe me
These promissing words, which I tooke deepely note of;
My Lord shall be most wellcome,
Luss.
Faith I thanke her,
Vin.
When his pleasure conducts him this way.
Luss.
That shall be soone ifath,
Vind.
I will sway mine owne,
Luss.
Shee do's the wiser I commend her fort,
Vind.
Women with women can worke best alone,
Luss.
By this light and so they can, giue 'em their due, men are
not comparable to 'em.
Vind.
No thats true, for you shall haue one woman knit
more in a hower then any man can Rauell agen in seauen and
twenty yeare.
Luss.
Now my desires are happy, Ile make 'em free-men now,
Thou art a pretious fellow, faith I loue thee,
Be wise and make it thy reuennew, beg, leg,
What office couldst thou be Ambitious for?
Vind.
Office my Lord marry if I might haue my wish I would
haue one that was neuer begd yet.
Luss.
Nay then thou canst haue none.
Vind.
Yes my Lord I could picke out another office yet, nay
and keepe a horse and drab vppont,
Luss.
Prethee good bluntnes tell me.
Vind.
Why I would desire but this my Lord, to haue all the
fees behind the Arras; and all the farthingales that fal plumpe
Luss.
Thou'rt a mad apprehensiue knaue, dost thinke to make
any great purchase of that.
Vind.
Oh tis an vnknowne thing my Lord, I wonder ta's been
mist so long?
Luss.
Well, this night ile visit her, and tis till then
A yeare in my desires—farwell, attend,
Trust me with thy preferment.
Exit.
Vind.
My lou'd Lord;
Oh shall I kill him ath wrong-side now, no!
Sword thou wast neuer a back-biter yet,
Ile peirce him to his face, he shall die, looking vpon me,
Thy veines are sweld with lust, this shall vnfill e'm,
Great men were Gods, if beggers could not kil e'm,
Forgiue me heauen, to call my mother wicked,
Oh lessen not my daies vpon the earth
I cannot honor her, by this I feare me
Her tongue has turnd my sister into vse.
I was a villaine not to be forsworne:
To this our lecherous hope, the Dukes sonne,
For Lawiers, Merchants, some diuines and all,
Count beneficiall periury a sin small,
It shall go hard yet, but ile guard her honor
And keepe the portes sure?
Enter Hippol.
Hip.
Brother how goes the world? I would know newes of you
But I haue newes to tell you.
Vind.
What in the name of knauery?
Hipo.
Knauery fayth,
This vicious old Duke's worthily abusde
The pen of his bastard writes him Cuckold!
Vind.
His bastard?
Hip.
Pray beleeue it, he and the Duchesse,
By night meete in their linnen, they haue beene seene
By staire-foote pandars!
Uind.
Oh sin foule and deepe,
Great faults are winckt at when the Duke's a sleepe,
See, see, here comes the Spurio.
Hip.
Monstrous Luxur?
Vnbrac'd: two of his valiant bawdes with him.
O There's a wicked whisper; hell is in his care
Stay let's obserue his passage—
Spu.
Oh but are you sure on't.
Ser.
My Lord most sure on't, for twas spoke by one,
That is most inward with the Dukes sonnes lust:
That he intends within this houre to steale,
Vnto Hippolitoes sister, whose chast life
The mother has corrupted for his vse.
Sp.
Sweete word, sweete occasion, fayth then brother
Ile disinherit you in as short time,
As I was when I was begot in hast:
Ile dam you at your pleasure: pretious deed
After your lust, oh twill be fine to bleede,
Come let our passing our be soft & wary.
Exeunt.
Ui.
Marke, there, there, that step, now to the Duches,
This their second meeting, writes the Duke Cuckold
With new additions, his hornes newly reuiu'd:
Night! thou that lookst like funerall Heraulds fees
Torne downe betimes ith morning, thou hangst fittly
To Grace those sins that haue no grace at all,
Now tis full sea a bed ouer the world,
Theres iugling of all sides, some that were Maides
E'en at Sun set are now perhaps ith Toale-booke,
This woman in immodest thin apparell:
Lets in her friend by water, here a Dame
Cunning, nayles lether-hindges to a dore,
To auoide proclamation,
Now Cuckolds are a quoyning, apace, apace, apace, apace?
And carefull sisters spinne that thread ith night,
That does maintaine them and their bawdes ith daie!
Hip.
You flow well brother?
Viud.
Puh I'me shallow yet,
Too sparing and too modest, shall I tell thee,
If euery trick were told that's dealt by night
There are few here that would not blush out right.
Hip.
I am of that beleefe too.
Vind.
Whose this comes,
The Dukes sonne vp so late,—brother fall back,
And you shall learne, some mischeife,—my good Lord.
Luss.
Piato, why the man I wisht for, come,
I do embrace this season for the fittest
To tast of that yong Lady?
Vind.
Heart, and hell.
Hip.
Dambd villaine.
Vind.
I ha no way now to crosse it, but to kill him.
Luss.
Come only thou and I.
Vin.
My Lord my Lord.
Luss.
Why dost thou start vs?
Vind.
Ide almost forgot—the bastard!
Lus.
What of him?
Vind.
This night, this houre—this minute, now.
Luss.
What? what?
Vin.
Shadowes the Duchesse—
Luss.
Horrible word.
Vind.
And like strong poyson eates,
Into the Duke your fathers fore-head.
Luss.
Oh.
Vind.
He makes horne royall.
Lus:
Most ignoble slaue?
Vind.
This is the fruite of two beds.
Luss.
I am mad.
Vind.
That passage he trod warily:
Luss.
He did!
Vind.
And husht his villaines euery step he tooke.
Luss.
His villaines? ile confound them.
Vind.
Take e'm finely, finely, now.
Luss.
The Duchesse Chamber-doore shall not controule mee.
Hip.
Good, happy, swift, there's gunpowder ith Court,
(Exeunt
Wilde fire at mid-night, in this heedlesse fury
He may show violence to crosse himselfe,
Ile follow the Euent.
Exit.
Luss.
Where is that villaine?
Enter againe.
Vind.
Softly my Lord and you may take e'm twisted.
Luss.
I care not how!
Vind.
Oh twill be glorious,
To kill e'm doubled, when their heapt, be soft my Lord.
Luss.
Away my spleene is not so lazy, thus and thus,
Ile shake their eye-lids ope, and with my sword
Shut e'm agen for euer;—villaine, strumpet—
Duk.
You vpper Guard defend vs.
Duch.
Treason, treason.
Duk.
Oh take mee not in sleepe, I haue great sins, I must haue daies,
Nay months deere sonne, with penitential heaues,
To lift 'em out, and not to die vncleere,
Luss.
I am amazde to death.
Duke.
Nay villaine traytor,
Worse then the fowlest Epithite, now Ile gripe thee
Ee'n with the Nerues of wrath, and throw thy head
Amongst the Lawyers gard.
Enter Nobles and sonnes.
1. Noble.
How comes the quiet of your Grace disturbd?
Duke.
This boye that should be my selfe after mee,
Would be my selfe before me, and in heate
Of that ambition bloudily rusht in
Intending to depose me in my bed?
2. Noble.
Duty and naturall-loyalty for-fend.
Dut.
He cald his Father villaine; and me strumpet,
A word that I abhorre to file my lips with.
Ambi.
That was not so well done Brother?
Luss.
I am abusde—I know ther's no excuse can do me good.
Vind.
Tis now good policie to be from sight,
His vicious purpose to our sisters honour,
Is crost beyond our thought.
Hip.
You little dreamt his Father slept heere.
Vind.
Oh 'twas farre beyond me.
But since it fell so;—without fright-full word,
Would he had kild him, twould haue easde our swords.
Duk.
Be comforted our Duchesse, he shall dye.
dissemble a flight.
Luss.
Where's this slaue-pander now? out of mine eye,
Guiltie of this abuse.
Enter Spurio with his villaines.
Spu.
Y'are villaines, Fablers,
You haue knaues chins, and harlots tongues, you lie,
And I will dam you with one meale a day.
1. Ser.
O good my Lord!
Spu.
Sbloud you shall neuer sup.
2. Ser.
O I beseech you sir.
Spu.
To let my sword—Catch cold so long and misse him.
1. Ser.
Troth my Lord—Twas his intent to meete there.
Spu.
Heart hee's yonder?
Ha? what newes here? is the day out ath-socket,
How comes the Guard so sawcie with his elbowes?
Luss.
The Bastard here?
Nay then the truth of my intent shall out,
My Lord and Father heare me.
Duke.
Beare him hence.
Luss.
I can with loyaltie excuse.
Duke.
Excuse? to prison with the Villaine,
Death shall not long lag after him.
Spu.
Good ifaith, then 'tis not much amisse,
Luss.
Brothers, my best release lies on your tongues,
I pray perswade for mee.
Ambi.
It is our duties: make your selfe sure of vs.
Sup.
Weele sweate in pleading.
Luss.
And I may liue to thanke you.
Exeunt.
Ambi.
No, thy death shall thanke me better.
Spu.
Hee's gon: Ile after him,
And know his trespasse, seeme to beare a part
In all his ills, but with a Puritane heart.
Exit.
Amb.
Now brother, let our hate and loue be wouen
So subtilly together, that in speaking one word for his life,
We may make three for his death,
The craftiest pleader gets most gold for breath.
Sup.
Set on, Ile not be farre behinde you brother.
Duke.
Ist possible a sonne should bee disobedient as farre as
the sword: it is the highest he can goe no farther.
Ambi.
My gratious Lord, take pitty,—
Duke.
Pitty boyes?
Amb.
Nay weed be loth to mooue your Grace too much,
Wee know the trespasse is vnpardonable,
Black, wicked, and vnnaturall,
Sup.
In a Sonne, oh Monstrous.
Ambi.
Yet my Lord,
A Dukes soft hand stroakes the rough head of law,
And makes it lye smooth.
Duk.
But my hand shall nere doot.
Amb.
That as you please my Lord.
Super.
Wee must needs confesse,
Some father would haue enterd into hate,
So deadly pointed, that before his eyes,
Hee would ha seene the execution sound,
Amb.
But my Lord,
Your Grace may liue the wonder of all times,
In pardning that offence which neuer yet
Had face to beg a pardon.
Duke.
Hunny, how's this?
Amb.
Forgiue him good my Lord, hee's your owne sonne,
And I must needs say 'twas the vildlier done.
Superv.
Hee's the next heire—yet this true reason gathers,
None can possesse that dispossesse their fathers:
Be mercifull;—
Duke.
Here's no Step-mothers-wit,
Ile trie em both vpon their loue and hate.
Amb.
Be mercifull—altho—
Duke.
You haue preuaild,
My wrath like flaming waxe hath spent it selfe,
I know 'twas but some peeuish Moone in him: goe, let him bee releasd.
Superv.
Sfoote how now Brother?
Amb.
Your Grace doth please to speake beside your spleene,
I would it were so happy?
Duke.
Why goe, release him.
Superv.
O my good Lord, I know the fault's too weighty,
And full of generall loathing; too inhumaine,
Rather by all mens voyces worthy death.
Duke.
Tis true too; here then, receiue this signet, doome shall passe,
Direct it to the Iudges, he shall dye
Ere many dayes, make hast.
Amb.
All speed that may be,
We could haue wisht his burthen not so sore,
We knew your Grace did but delay before.
Exeunt.
Duke.
Here's Enuie with a poore thin couer or't,
Like Scarlet hid in lawne, easily spide through,
This their ambition by the Mothers side,
Is dangerous, and for safetie must be purgd,
I will preuent their enuies, sure it was
But some mistaken furie in our sonne,
Which these aspiring boyes would climbe vpon:
He shall bee releasde suddainly.
Enter Nobles.
1. Nob.
Good morning to your Grace.
Duke.
Welcome my Lords.
2. Nob.
Our knees shall take away the office of our feete for euer,
Vpon the Clouded fortunes of your sonne,
And in compassionate vertue grant him that,
Which makes e'en meane men happy; liberty
Duk.
How seriously their loues and honors woo
For that, which I am about to pray them doo
Which, rise my Lords, your knees signe his release,
We freely pardon him.
1. Nob.
We owe your Grace much thankes, and he much duety.
Duk.
It well becomes that Iudge to nod at crimes,
(Exeunt.
That dos commit greater himselfe and liues:
I may sorgiue a disobedient error,
That expect pardon for adultery
And in my old daies am a youth in lust:
Many a beauty haue I turnd to poyson
In the deniall, couetous of all,
Age hot, is like a Monster to be seene:
My haires are white, and yet my sinnes are Greene.
| The Revengers Tragaedie [by Thomas Middleton] | |