 | The Atheist's Tragedie :or The honest Man's Revenge |  |
Actus quarti
Scena prima.
Enter Cataplasma and Soquette with Needle-worke.Cataplasma.
Come
Soquette; your worke! let's examine your worke.
What's here? a Medlar with a Plum-tree growing hard by
it; The leaues o' the Plum-tree falling off; the gumme issuing
out o' the perish'd ioynts; and the branches some of 'em dead,
and some rotten; and yet but a young Plum-tree. In good
sooth, very prettie.
Soqu.
The Plum-tree (forsooth) growes so neare the Medlar,
that the Medlar suckes and drawes all the sap from it; and
the naturall strength o' the ground, so that it cannot prosper.
Cata.
How conceipted you are! But heere th'ast made a
Tree to beare no fruit. Why's that?
Soqu.
There growes a Sauin-tree next it forsooth.
Cata.
Forsooth you are a little too wittie in that.
Enter Sebastian.
Seba.
But this Honisuckle windes about this white-thorne
very prettily and louingly; sweet Mistresse Cataplasma.
Cata.
Monsieur Sebastian! in good sooth very vprightly
welcome this euening.
Seba.
What? moralizing vpon this Gentlewomans needle-worke?
let's see.
Cata.
No Sir. Onely examining whether it be done to the
true nature and life o' the thing?
Seba.
Heere y'haue set a Medlar with a Batchelers-button
o' one side; and a Snaile o'th'tother. The Batchelers-button
should haue held his head vp more pertly towards the Medlar;
an artificiall lazinesse, doubling his taile and putting out his
horne but halfe the length. And then the Medlar falling (as
it were) from the lazie Snaile, and enclining towards the pert
Batchelers-button; their branches spreading and winding one
within another as if they did embrace. But heere's a morall.
A poppring Peare-tree growing vpon the banke of a Riuer;
seeming continually to looke downewards into the water, as if
it were enamour'd of it; and euer as the fruit ripens, lets it fall
for loue (as it were) into her lap. Which the wanton Streame,
like a Strumpet, no sooner receiues, but she carries it away, and
bestowes it vpon some other creature she maintaines: still seeming
to play and dally vnder the Poppring, so long, that it
has almost wash'd away the earth from the roote; and now the
poore Tree stands as if it were readie to fall and perish by that
whereon it spent all the substance it had.
Cata.
Morall for you that loue those wanton running waters.
Seba.
But is not my Lady Leuidulcia come yet?
Cata.
Her purpose promis'd vs her companie ere this.
Lirie! your Lute and your Booke.
Seba.
Well said. A lesson o'th'Lute to entertaine the time
with till she comes.
Cata.
Sol, fa, mi, la.—Mi, mi mi.—Precious!
Doest not see mi betweene the two Crochets? Strike mee full
there.—So—forward.—This is a sweet straine,
and thou finger'st it beastly. Mi is a laerg there; and the prick
that stands before mi, a long; alwaies halfe your note.—
Now—Runne your diuision pleasingly with those quauers.
Obserue all your graces i'the touch.—Heere's a
sweet cloze—strike it full, it sets off your musicke delicately.
Enter Languebeau Snuffe and Leuidulcia.
Lang.
Puritie be in this House.
Cata.
T'is now enter'd; and welcome with your good Ladiship.
Cease that musicke. Here's a sweeter instrument.
Leuid.
Restraine your libertie. See you not Snuffe?
Seba.
What does the Stinkard here? put Snuffe out. He's
offensiue.
Leuid.
No. The credit of his companie defends my being
abroad from the eye of Suspition.
Cata.
Wil't please your Ladiship goe vp into the Closet?
There are those Falles and Tyres I tolde you of.
Leuid.
Monsieur Snuffe, I shall request your patience. My
stay will not be long.
Exit cum Sebast.
Lang.
My duty Madame.—Falles and Tyres? I begin
to suspect what Falles and Tyres you meane. My Lady and
Sebastian the Fall and the Tyre, and I the Shadow. I perceiue
the puritie of my conuersation is vs'd but for a propertie to couer
the vncleanenesse of their purposes. The very contemplation
o'the thing, makes the spirit of the flesh begin to wriggle
in my bloud. And heere my desire has met with an obiect alreadie.
This Gentlewoman (me thinkes) should be swayed with
the motion; liuing in a house where mouing example is so
common. Temptation has preuail'd ouer mee; and I will attempt
to make it ouercome her.—Mistresse Cataplasma!
My Lady (it seemes) has some businesse that requires her slay.
The fairenesse o' the euening inuites me into the ayre; will it
please you giue this Gentlewoman leaue to leaue her worke,
and walke a turne or two with me for honest recreation?
Cata.
With all my heart Sir. Goe Soquette; giue eare to his
instructions; you may get vnderstanding by his companie I
can tell you.
Lang.
In the way of holinesse, Mistresse Cataplasma.
Cata.
Good Monsieur Snuffe!—I will attend your
returne.
Lang.
Your hand Gentlewoman.—
The flesh is humble till the Spirit moue it;
But when t'is rais'd it will command aboue it.
Exeunt.
Enter D'amville, Charlemont, and Borachio.
D'am.
Your sadnesse and the sicknesse of my Sonne,
Haue made our company and conference
Char.
Sir; for the present I am much vnfit
For conuersation or societie.
With pardon I will rudely take my leaue.
D'am.
Good night; deere Nephew.—
Exit Charlemont.
Seest thou that same man?
Bora.
Your meaning Sir?
D'am.
That fellowes life Borachio.
Like a superfluous Letter in the Law,
Endangers our assurance.
Bora.
Scrape him out.
D'am.
Wut doe't?
Bora.
Giue me your purpose I will doe't.
D'am.
Sad melancholy has drawne Charlemont,
With meditation on his Fathers death,
Into the solitarie walke behind the Church.
Bora.
The Churchyard? This the fittest place for death,
Perhaps he's praying. Then he's fit to die,
We'l send him charitably to his graue.
D'am.
No matter how thou tak'st him. First take this.—
Thou knowest the place. Obserue his passages;
Pistoll.
And with the most aduantage make a stand;
That fauour'd by the darknesse of the night,
His brest may fall vpon thee at so neare
A distance, that he sha'not shunne the blow.
The deede once done, thou mai'st retire with safety.
The place is vnfrequented; and his death
Will be imputed to th'attempt of theeues.
Bora.
Be carelesse. Let your mind be free and cleare.
This Pistoll shall discharge you of your feare.
—Exit.
D'am.
But let me call my proiects to accompt,
For what effect and end I haue engag'd
My selfe in all this bloud? To leaue a state
To the succession of my proper bloud.
But how shall that succession be continued?
Not in my elder Sonne, I feare, Disease
For th'tother; his loose humour will endure
No bond of marriage. And I doubt his life;
His spirit is so boldly dangerous.
O pittie that the profitable end,
Of such a prosp'rous murther should be lost!
Nature forbid. I hope I haue a body,
That will not suffer me to loose my labour,
For want of issue, yet. But then't must be
A Bastard.—Tush; they onely father bastards,
That father other mens begettings. Daughter!
Be it mine owne; let it come whence it will.
I am resolu'd. Daughter!
—Enter Seruant.
Seru.
My Lord.
D'am.
I prithee call my Daughter.
—Enter Casta.
Casta.
Your pleasure Sir.
D'am.
Is thy Husband i'bed?
Casta.
Yes my Lord.
D'am.
The euening's faire. I prithee walke a turne or two.
Casta.
Come Iaspar.
D'am.
No.
Wee'l walke but to the corner o'the Church;
And I haue something to speake priuately.
Casta.
No matter, Stay.
—Exit Seruant.
D'am.
This falles out happily.
—Exeunt.
Enter Charlemont, Borachio dogging him in the Churchyard.
The Clocke strikes twelue.
Charl.
Twelue.
Bora.
T'is a good houre, t'will strike one anon.
Charl.
How fit a place for contemplation is this dead of
night, among the dwellings of the dead.—This graue.—
Perhappes th'inhabitant vvas in his life time the possessour
of his owne desires. Yet in the midd'st of all his greatnesse
and his wealth; he was lesse rich and lesse contented, then in
heere he neither wants nor cares. Now that his body sauours
of corruption; Hee enioyes a sweeter rest then e'er hee did amongst
the sweetest pleasures of this life. For heere, there's
nothing troubles him.—And there.—In that graue
lies another. He (perhaps) was in his life as full of miserie as
this of happinesse. And here's an end of both. Now both their
states are equall. O that Man, with so much labour should aspire
to worldly height; when in the humble earth, the world's
condition's at the best! Or scorne inferiour men; since to be
lower then a worme, is to be higher then a King!
Bora.
Then fall and rise.
—Discharges.—Giues false fire.
Charl.
What villaines hand was that? saue thee or thou shalt
perish.
They fight.
Bora.
Zownes vnsau'd I thinke.
—Fall.
Charl.
What? Haue I kill'd him? whatsoe'er thou beest I
would thy hand had prosper'd. For I was vnfit to liue, and well
prepar'd to die. What shall I doe? accuse my selfe. Submit me
to the law, and that will quickly end this violent encrease of
miserie. But t'is a murther to be accessarie to mine owne death.
I will not. I will take this opportunitie to scape. It may be
Heau'n reserues me to some better end.
Enter Snuffe and Soquette into the Churchyard.
Soqu.
Nay good Sir; I dare not. In good sooth I come of
a generation both by Father and Mother, that were all as fruitfull
as Costard-mongers wiues.
Snu.
Tush then, a Timpanie is the greatest danger can be
fear'd. Their fruitfulnesse turnes but to a certaine kind of flegmatique
windie disease.
Soqu.
I must put my vnderstanding to your trust Sir. I
would be loath to be deceiu'd.
Snu.
No conceiue; thou sha't not. Yet thou shalt profit
by my instruction too. My bodie is not euery day drawne
dry wench.
Yet mee thinkes Sir, your want of vse should rather
make your body like a Well, the lesser t'is drawne, the sooner
it growes dry.
Snu.
Thou shalt try that instantly.
Soqu.
But we want place and opportunity.
Snu.
We haue both. This is the backe side of the House
which the superstitious call Saint Winifred's Church; and is verily
a conuenient vnfrequented place.—Where vnder the
close Curtaines of the night;
Soqu.
You purpose i'the darke to make me light.
Pulles out a sheete, a haire, and a beard.
But what ha' you there?
Snu.
This disguise is for securitie sake wench. There's a
talke thou know'st, that the Ghoast of olde Montferrers walks.
In this Church he was buried. Now if any stranger fall vpon vs
before our businesse be ended; in this disguise I shall be taken
for that Ghoast; and neuer be call'd to examination I warrant
thee. Thus wee shall scape both preuention and discouerie.
How doe I looke in this habite wench?
Soq.
So like a Ghost, that notwithstanding I haue som foreknowledge
of you, you make my haire stand almost an end.
Snu.
I will try how I can kisse in this beard.—O fie,
fie, fie. I will put it off; and then kisse; and then put it on. I
can doe the rest without kissing.
Enter Charlemont doubtfully with his sword drawne, is vpon them before they are aware. They runne out diuers waies, and leaue the disguise.
Charl.
What ha' wee heere? a Sheete? a haire? a beard?
What end was this disguise intended for? No matter what. I'le
not expostulate the purpose of a friendly accident. Perhaps it
may accommodate my scape.—I feare I am pursued. For
more assurance, I'le hide mee heere i'th Charnell house; this
conuocation-house of dead mens sculles.—
Death's head! deceiu'st my hold? Such is the trust to all mortalitie.
—Hides himselfe in the Charnell house.
Casta.
My Lord! The night growes lare. Your Lordship
spake of something you desir'd to moue in priuate.
D'am.
Yes. Now I'le speake it. Th'argument is loue. The
smallest ornament of thy sweet forme (that abstract of all pleasure)
can command the sences into passion; and thy entire perfection
is my obiect; yet I loue thee with the freedome of my
reason. I can giue thee reason for my loue.
Casta.
Loue me; my Lord? I doe beleeue it, for I am the
wife of him you loue.
D'am.
T'is true. By my perswasion thou wert forc'd to
marrie one, vnable to performe the office of a Husband. I was
author of the wrong. My conscience suffers vnder't; and I
would disburthen it by satisfaction.
Casta.
How?
D'am.
I will supply that pleasure to thee which he cannot.
Casta.
Are y'a diuell or a man?
D'am.
A man; and such a man, as can returne thy entertainment
with as prodigall a body, as the couetous desire of
woman euer was delighted with. So, that besides the full performance
of thy empty Husbands dutie; thou shalt haue the
ioy of children to continue the succession of thy bloud. For
the appetite that steales her pleasure; drawes the forces of the
body to an vnited strength; and puts 'em altogether into action;
neuer failes of procreation. All the purposes of Man aime
but at one of these two ends; pleasure or profit: And in this one
sweet coniunction of our loues, they both will meete. Would
it not grieue thee, that a Stranger to thy bloud, should lay the
first foundation of his house vpon the ruines of thy family?
Casta.
Now Heau'n defend me! May my memorie be vtterly
extinguish'd; and the heire of him that was my Fathers
enemie, raise his eternall monument vpon our ruines; ere the
greatest pleasure or the greatest profit, euer tempt me to continue
it by incest.
D'am.
Incest? Tush. These distances affinitie obserues; are
articles of bondage cast vpon our freedomes by our owne subiections.
Nature allowes a gen'rall libertie of generation to all
were made subiect be lesse free then they?
Casta.
O God! is thy vnlimited and infinite omnipotence
lesse free because thou doest no ill? or if you argue meerely
out of Nature; doe you not degenerate from that; and are you
not vnworthie the prerogatiue of Natures Maister-piece, when
basely you prescribe your selfe authoritie and law from their
examples whom you should command? I could confute you;
but the horrour of the argument confounds my vnderstanding.
—Sir, I know, you doe but try me in your Sonnes behalfe;
suspecting that my strength and youth of bloud cannot
containe themselues with impotence.—Beleeue me
(Sir) I neuer wrong'd him. If it be your lust; O quench it on
their prostituted flesh, whose trade of sinne can please desire
with more delight, and lesse offence.—The poyson of your
breath, euaporated from so foule a soule; infects the ayre
more then the dampes that rise from bodies but halfe rotten
in their graues.
D'am.
Kisse me. I warrant thee my breath is sweet. These
dead mens bones lie heere of purpose to inuite vs to supply the
number of the liuing. Come; we'l get young bones and doe't.
I will enioy thee. No? Nay then inuoke your great suppos'd
protectour; I will doe't.
Casta.
Suppos'd protectour? Are y'an Athiest? Then, I
know my prayers and teares are spent in vaine. O patient
Heau'n! Why doest thou not expresse thy wrath in thunderbolts;
to teare the frame of man in pieces? How can earth endure
the burthen of this wickednesse without an earthquake?
Or the angry face of Heau'n be not enflam'd with lighning.
D'am.
Coniure vp the Diuell and his Dam; Crie to the
graues; the dead can heare thee; inuocate their helpe.
Casta.
O would this graue might open, and my body were
bound to the dead carkasse of a man for euer, e're it entertaine
the lust of this detested villaine.
D'am.
Tereas-like; thus I will force my passage to—
Charl.
The Diuell.
Now Lady! with the hand of Charlemont, I thus redeeme you
from the arme of lust.—My Castabella!
Casta.
My deare Charlemont!
Charl.
For all my wrongs I thanke thee gracious Heau'n;
th'ast made me satisfaction; to reserue me for this blessed purpose.
Now sweet Death, I'le bid thee welcome. Come. I'le
guard thee home; and then I'le cast my selfe into the armes of
apprehension, that the law may make this worthie worke, the
crowne of all my actions being the best and last.
Casta.
The last? The law? Now Heau'n forbid! what ha'you
done?
Charl.
Why, I haue kill'd a man; not murder'd him, my
Castabella; He would ha'murder'd me.
Casta.
Then Charlemont; the hand of Heau'n directed thy
defence.
Charl.
My life he seekes. I would he had it since he has depriu'd
mee of those blessings that should make mee loue it;
Come; I'le giue it him.
Casta.
You sha'not. I will first expose my selfe to certaine
danger, then for my defence destroy the man that sau'd mee
from destruction.
Charl.
Thou canst not satisfie me better, then to be the
instrument of my release from miserie.
Casta.
Then worke it by escape. Leaue mee to this protection
that still guards the innocent; Or I will be a partner in
your destinie.
Charl.
My soule is heauie. Come; lie downe to rest;
These are the pillowes whereon men sleepe best.
They lie downe with either of them a Death's head for a pillow.
Enter Snuffe seeking Soquette.
Snu.
Soquette! Soquette! Soquette! O art thou there?—
Verily thou lyest in a fine premiditate readinesse for the purpose.
Come kisse me sweet Soquette.—Now puritie defend
me from the sinne of Sodom.—This is a creature of the
Yea? cold and stiffe?—Murder, murder, murder.
Exit.
Enter D'amville distractedly; starts at the sight of a Death's head.
D'am.
Why doest thou stare vpon me? Thou art not the
scull of him I murder'd. What hast thou to doe to vexe my
conscience? Sure thou wert the head of a most dogged Vsurer,
th'art so vncharitable. And that Bawde the skie, there; she
could shut the windowes and the dores of this great chamber
of the world; and draw the curtaines of the clouds betweene
those lights and me about this bed of earth, when that same
Stumpet Murder & my selfe committed sin together. Then she
could leaue vs i'the darke, till the close deed was done: But now,
that I begin to feele the loathsome horrour of my sinne; and
(like a Leacher emptied of his lust) desire to burie my face vnder
my eye-browes, and would steale from my shame vnseene;
she meetes me i'the face with all her light corrupted eyes, to
challenge payment o'mee.—O beholde. Yonder's the
Ghoast of olde Montferrers in a long white sheete, climbing
yond' loftie mountaine to complaine to Heau'n of me.—
Montferrers! 'pon o'fearefulnesse. T'is nothing but a faire
white cloude. Why? was I borne a coward? He lies that sayes
so. Yet the count'nance of a bloudlesse worme might ha'the
courage now to turne my bloud to water. The trembling motion
of an Aspen leafe, would make me like the shadow of that
leafe, lie shaking vnder't. I could now commit a murder, were
it but to drinke the fresh warme bloud of him I murder'd; to
supply the want and weakenesse o'mine owne; t'is growne so
colde and flegmaticke.
Lang.
Murder, murder, murder.
—Within.
D'am.
Moutaines o'erwhelme mee, the Ghoast of olde
Montferrers haunts me.
Lang.
Murder, murder, murder.
D'am.
O were my body circumuolu'd within that cloude;
that when the thunder teares his passage open, it might scatter
me to nothing in the ayre!
Lang.
Here you shall finde the murder'd body.
D'am.
Black Beelzebub, and all his hell-hounds come to
apprehend me?
Lang.
No my good Lord. Wee come to apprehend the
murderer. The Ghoast (great Pluto) was a foole; vnfit to be
imployed in any serious businesse for the state of hell. Why?
could not he ha' suffer'd me to raise the mountaine o'my sinnes
with one as damnable as all the rest; and then ha' tumbled me
to ruine? But apprehend me e'en betweene the purpose and the
act? before it was committed?
Watch.
Is this the murderer? He speakes suspitiously,
Lang.
No verily. This is my Lord D'amville. And his distraction
(I thinke) growes out of his griefe for the losse of a
faithfull seruant. For surely I take him to be Borachio that is
slaine.
D'am.
Haah! Borachio slaine? Thou look'st like Snuffe,
doest not.
Lang.
Yes in sincerity my Lord.
D'am.
Harke thee?—Sawest thou not a Ghoast?
Lang.
A Ghoast? where my Lord?—I smell a Foxe.
D'am.
Heere i'the Churchyard.
Lang.
Tush, tush; their walking spirits are meere imaginarie
fables. There's no such thing in rerum natura. Heere is a
man slaine. And with the Spirit of consideration, I rather think
him to be the murderer got into that disguise, then any such
phantastique toy.
D'am.
My braines begin to put themselues in order. I apprehend
thee now.—T'is e'en so.—Borachio! I will
search the Center but I'le finde the murderer.
Watch.
Heere, heere, heere.—
D'am.
Stay. A sleepe? so soundly? and so sweetly vpon
Deathes Heads? and in a place so full of feare and horrour?
Sure there is some other happinesse within the freedome of
the conscience, then my knowledge e'er attain'd too.—Ho,
ho, ho!
Charl.
Y'are welcome Vncle. Had you sooner come,
You seeke. You sha'not neede examine me.
D'am.
My Nephew! and my Daughter! O my deare
Lamented bloud! what Fate has cast you thus
Vnhappily vpon this accident?
Charl.
You know Sir, she's as cleare as Chastitie.
D'am.
As her owne chastitie. The time; the place;
All circumstances argue that vncleare.
Casta.
Sir, I confesse it; and repentantly
Will vndergoe the selfe same punishment,
That Iustice shall inflict on Charlemont.
Charl.
Vniustly she betrayes her innocence.
Watch.
But Sir, she's taken with you; and she must
To prison with you.
D'am.
There's no remedie.
Yet were it not my Sonnes bed she abus'd;
My land should flie but both should be excus'd.
Exeunt.
Enter Belforest and a Seruant.
Belfo.
Is not my wife come in yet?
Seru.
No my Lord.
Belfo.
Me thinks she's very affectedly enclin'd,
To young Sebastian's company o'late.
But iealousie is such a torment, that
I am afraid to entertaine it. Yet
The more I shunne by circumstance to meete
Directly with it; the more ground I finde
To circumuent my apprehension. First,
I know sh'as a perpetuall appetite;
Which being so oft encounter'd with a man
Of such a bold luxurious freedome, as
Sebastian is; and of so promising
A body: her owne bloud, corrupted, will
Betray her to temptation.—
Enter Frisco closely.
Fris.
'Precious! I was sent by his Lady to see if her Lord
were in bed; I should ha'done't slily without discouery; and now
I am blurted vpon 'em before I was aware.
—Exit.
Know not you the Gentlewoman my wife brought
home?
Seru.
By sight my Lord. Her man was here but now.
Belfo.
Her man? I pr'ithee runne and call him quickly.—
This villaine. I suspect him euer since I found him hid behind
the Tapestry.—Frisco! th'art welcome Frisco.—Leaue
vs. Doest heare Frisco! is not my wife at thy Mistresses?
Frisco.
I know not my Lord.
Belfo.
I prithee tell me Frisco; we are priuate; tell me. Is
not thy Mistresse a good wench?
Fris.
How meanes your Lordship that? A wench o'the trade.
Belf.
Yes faith Frisco; e'en a wench o'the trade.
Fris.
O no my Lord. Those falling diseases cause baldnesse;
and my Mistresse recouers the losse of haire, for she is a Periwig-maker.
Belfo.
And nothing else?
Frisc.
Sels Falls and Tyres, and Bodies for Ladies; or so.
Belfo.
So Sir: and she helpes my Lady to falles and bodies
now and then; doe's she not?
Frisc.
At her Ladiships pleasure; my Lord.
Belfo.
Her pleasure; you Rogue? you are the Pandar to her
pleasure you Varlet, are you not? you know the conueyances
betweene Sebastian and my wife. Tell me the truth; or by this
hand I'le naile thy bosome to the earth. Stirre not you Dogge;
but quickly tell the truth.
Frisco.
O yes!
—Speake like a Crier.
Belfo.
Is not thy Mistresse a Bawde to my wife?
Frisco.
O yes!
Belfo.
And acquainted with her trickes, and her plots, and
her deuises.
Frisco.
O yes! If any man, 'Court, Citie or Countrey, has
found my Lady Leuidulcia in bed, but my Lord Belforest, it is
Sebastian.
Belfo.
What doest thou proclaime it? Doest thou crie it
thou villaine?
Frisco.
Can you laugh it my Lord? I thought you meant to
proclaime your selfe Cuckold.
Belfo.
The Watch? Met with my wish. I must request th'assistance
of your offices.
S'death; stay that villaine; pursue him.
—Exeunt.
Enter Snuffe importuning Soquette.
Sequ.
Nay, if you get me any more into the Churchyard.
Snu.
Why Soquette? I neuer got thee there yet.
Soqu.
Got me there? No. Not with childe.
Snu.
I promis'd thee I would not; and I was as good as my
word.
Soqu.
Yet your word was better then than your deede. But,
steale vp into the little matted chamber o'the left hand.
Snu.
I prithee let it be the right hand; thou left'st me before
and I did not like that.
Soqu.
'Precious quickly; So soone as my Mistresse shall be in
bed I'le come to you.
—Exit Snuffe.
Enter Sebastian, Leuidulcia and Cataplasma.
Cata.
I wonder Frisco stayes so long.
Seba.
Mistresse Soquette, a word with you.
—Whisper.
Leui.
If he brings word my Husband is i'bed; I will aduenture
one nights liberty to lie abroad.—My strange affection
to this Man!—T'is like that naturall sympathie which
e'en among the sencelesse creatures of the earth, commands a
mutuall inclination and consent: For though it seemes to be
the free effect of mine owne voluntarie loue; yet I can neither
restraine it, nor giue reason for't. But now t'is done; and in
your power it lies to saue my honour; or dishonour me.
Cata.
Enioy your pleasure (Madame) without feare. I neuer
will betray the trust you haue committed to me. And you
wrong your selfe, to let consideration of the sinne; molest your
conscience. Me thinkes t'is vniust, that a reproach should be
inflicted on a woman for offending but with one; when t'is a
light offence in Husbands to commit with many.
Leui.
So it seemes to me.—Why how now Sebastian?
making loue to that Gentlewoman? How many mistresses ha'
you i'faith?
Seba.
In faith; none. For I think none of 'em are faithfull,
is like a Mushrom; it growes in one night, and will serue somwhat
pleasingly, next morning to breakfast: but afterwards
waxes fulsome and vnwholesome.
Cata.
Nay by Saint Winifred; a woman's loue lasts as long
as Winter fruit.
Seba.
T'is true. Till new come in. By my experience no
longer.
—Enter Frisco running.
Frisco.
Some bodie's doing has vndone vs; and we are like
pay dearely for't.
S. hast.
Pay deare? for what?
Frisco.
Wil't not be a chargeable reckoning, thinke you;
when heere are halfe a dozen fellowes comming to call vs to
accompt, with eu'rie man a seuerall bill in his hand, that wee
are not able to discharge.
—Knocke at the doore.
Cata.
Passion o' me. What bouncing's that? Madame!
withdraw your selfe.
Leuid.
Sebastian if you loue me, saue my honour.
—Exeunt.
Seba.
What violence is this? What seeke you? Zownes!
you shall not passe.
Enter Belforest and the Watch.
Belfo.
Pursue the Strumpet. Villaine giue mee way; or I
will make my passage through thy bloud.
Seba.
My bloud will make it slipperie my Lord. T'were better
you would take another way. You may hap fall else.
They fight. Both slaine. Sebastian falles first.
Seba.
I ha't ifaith.
—Dies.
While Belforest is staggering, enter Leuidulcia.
Leuid.
O God! my Husband! my Sebastian! Husband!
Neither can speake; yet both report my shame. Is this the
sauing of my Honour? when their bloud runnes out in riuers;
and my lust the fountaine whence it flowes? Deare Husband!
let not thy departed spirit be displeas'd; if with adult'rate lips
I kisse thy cheeke. Heere I behold the hatefulnesse of lust;
which brings me kneeling to embrace him dead; whose body
teares doe good; when I weepe onely water, they weepe bloud?
But could I make an Ocean with my teares; that on the floud
this broken vessell of my body, laden heauie with light lust
might suffer shipwrack, and so drowne my shame: then weeping
were to purpose; but alas! The Sea wants water enough
to wash away the foulenesse of my name. O in their wounds;
I feele my honour wounded to the death. Shall I out-liue my
Honour? Must my life be made the worlds example? Since it
must; then thus in detestation of my deede; to make th'example
moue more forceably to vertue; thus, I seale it with a death
as full of horrour as my life of sinne!
—Stabs herselfe.
Enter the Watch with Cataplasma, Frisco, Snuffe, and Soquette.
Watch.
Hold Madame! Lord what a strange night is this.
Snuffe.
May not Snuffe be suffer'd to goe out of himselfe?
Watch.
Nor you; nor any. All must goe with vs.
O with what vertue lust should be withstood!
Since t'is a fire quench'd seldome without bloud.
—Exeunt.
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