 | The Vnnatvrall Combat |  |
Actus quarti
Scena prima.
Malefort.solus.
What flames are these my wild desires fan in me?
The torch that feeds them, was not lighted at
Thy altars, Cupid: vindicate thy selfe,
And doe not own it: and confirme it rather,
That this infernall brand that turnes me cyndars,
Was by the snake-hair'd Sisters throwne into
My guiltie bosome. O that I was ever
Accurs'd in having issue: my sonnes bloud,
(That like the poyson'd shirt of Hercules
Growes to each part about me) which my hate
Forc'd from him with much willingnesse, may admit
Some weake defence; but my most impious love
To my faire daughter Theocrine, none.
Since my affection (rather wicked lust)
That does pursue her, is a greater crime
Than any detestation, with which
I should afflict her innocence. With what cunning
I have betray'd my selfe, and did not feele
The scorching heat that now with furie rages
Why was I tender of her? cover'd with
That fond disguise, this mischiefe stole upon me.
I thought it no offence to kisse her often,
Or twine mine armes about her softer neck,
And by false shadowes of a fathers kindnesse
I long deceiv'd my selfe: but now the effect
Is too apparent. How I strove to be
In her opinion held the worthiest man
In courtship, forme, and feature, envying him
My wishes to my selfe were not discover'd.
But still my fires increas'd, and with delight
I would call her mistresse, wilfully forgetting
The name of daughter choosing rather she
Should stile me servant, then with reverence father,
Yet mocking, I nere cherish'd obscene hopes,
But in my troubled slumbers often thought
Shee was too neere to me, and then sleeping blush'd
At my imagination which pass'd
My eyes being open, not condemning it,
I was ravish'd with the pleasure of the dreame,
Yet spight of these temptations I have reason
That pleades against 'em, and commands me to
Extinguish these abhominable fires,
And I will doe it, I will send her backe
To him that loves her lawfully. Within there?
Enter Theocrine.
Theoc.
Sir did you call?
Malef.
I looke no sooner on her,
But all my boasted power of reason leaves me,
And passion againe usurpes her Empire does none else wait me?
Theoc.
I am wretched sir, should any owe more duty.
Malef.
This is worse then disobedience, leave me.
Theoc.
On my knees sir, as I have ever squard my will by yours.
And lik'd, and loath'd with your eyes: I beseech you
To teach me what the nature of my fault is,
That hath incensd you, (sure tis one of weakenesse
And not of malice) which your gentler temper
On my submission I hope will pardon,
Which granted by your piety, if that I
Out of the least neglect of mine hereafter,
Make you remember it, may I sinke ever
Under your dread command.
Malef.
O my stars! who can but dote on this humility
That sweetens, lovely in her teares? the fetters
That seem'd to lessen in their waight; but now
Theoc.
Deare sir:
Malef.
Peace, I must not heare thee.
Theoc.
Nor looke on me.
Malef.
No, thy lookes and words are charmes.
Theoc.
May they have power then
To calme the tempest of your wrath, alas sir,
Did I but know in what I give offence
In my repentance I would shew my sorrow,
For what is past, and in my care hereafter
Kill the occasion or cease to be
Since life without your favour is to me a load I would cast off.
Malef.
O that my heart were rent in sunder, that I might expire,
The cause in my death buried: yet I know not
With such prevailing Oratory 'tis beg'd from me
That to deny thee would convince me to
Have suck'd the milke of Tigers, rise, and I
But in a perplexd, and misterious method.
Will make relation that which all the world
Admires and cries up in thee for perfections,
Are to unhappy me foule blemishes,
And mulcts in nature. If thou hadst beene borne
Deformd and crooked, in the features of
Thy body, as the manners of thy mind,
Moore lip'd, flat nos'd, dimme ey'd, and beetle brow'd
With a dwarfes stature to a gyant waste,
Sower breath'd, with clawes for fingers on thy hands,
Splay footed, gouty leg'd, and over all
A loathsome leprosie had spread it selfe,
And made thee shun'd of humane fellowships:
I had beene blest.
Theoc.
Why would you wish a monster
For such a one or worse you have describ'd,
To call your father.
Malef.
Rather then as now,
Though I had drownd thee for it in the sea
Appearing as thou dost a new Pandora,
Aurora's blushing cheekes, Hebes fresh youth,
Venus soft paps, with Thetis silver feet.
Theoc.
Sir you have lik'd and lov'd them, and oft forc'd
(With your hyperboles of praise powrd on them)
My modesty to a defensive red,
Strowd ore that palenesse, which you then were pleasd
To stile the purest white.
Malef.
And in that cup I drank the poison I now feele dispersd
Through every vaine and artery, wherefore art thou
So cruell to me? This thy outward shape
Brought a fierce warre against me, not to be
By flesh and blood resisted: but to leave me
No hope of freedome from the Magazine
Of thy minds forces, treacherously thou drewst up
Auxiliary helpes to strengthen that
Which was already in it selfe too potent,
Thy beauty gave the first charge, but thy duty
Seconded with thy care, and watchfull studies
To please, and serve my will in all that might
Raise up content in me, like thunder brake through
All opposition, and my rankes of reason
Disbanded, my victorious passions fell
To bloody execution, and compeld me
With willing hands to tie on my owne chaines,
And with a kinde of flattering joy to glory in my captivity.
Theoc.
I, in this you speake, sir, am ignorance it selfe.
Male.
And so continue, for knowledge of the armes thou bearst against me
Would make thee curse thy selfe, but yield no ayds
For thee to helpe me, and 'twere cruelty
In me to wounde that spotlesse innocency
How ere it make me guilty, in a word
The plurifie of goodnesse is thy ill,
Thy vertues vices, and thy humble lownesse
Far worse than stubborne sullennesse, and pride,
Thy lookes that ravish all beholders else
As killing as the Basiliskes, their teares
A glorious insultation, and no signe
Of pitty in thee, and to heare thee speake
In thy defence, though but in silent action,
Would make the hurt already deepely festerd
Incurable, and therefore as thou wouldst not
By thy presence raise fresh furies to torment me
I doe conjure thee by a fathers power,
(And tis my curse I dare not thinke it lawfull
To sue unto thee in a neerer name)
Without reply to leave me.
Theoc.
My obedience never learnd yet to question your commands,
But willingly to serve 'em, yet I must
Since that your will forbids the knowledge of
My fault, lament my fortune.
Exit.
Malf.
O that I have reason to discerne the better way
And yet pursue the worse, when I looke on her
I burne with heat, and in her absence freeze
With the cold blasts of jelousie, that another
Should ere taste those delights that are denide me,
And which of their afflictions bring lesse torture
I hardly can distinguish, is there then
No meane? no, so my understanding tels me,
And that by my crosse fates it is determind
That I am both waies wretched.
Enter Vsher, and Montrevile.
Vsher.
Yonder he walkes sir,
In much vexation: he hath sent my Lady
His daughter weeping in, but what the cause is
Rests yet in supposition.
Montr.
I guesse at it, but must be further satisfied, I will sift him
In private therefore, quit the roome.
Vsher.
I am gon sir.
Exit.
Malef.
Ha! who disturbes me? Montrevile? your pardon,
Montr.
Would you could grant one to your selfe. (I speake it
With the assurance of a friend) and yet
Before it be too late, make reparation
Of the grosse wrong, your indiscretion offered
For there begins my sorrow.
Malef.
Would I had no greater cause to mourne
Then their displeasure, for I dare justifie.
Montr.
We must not doe all that we dare private friend
I observd your alterations with a stricter eye
Perhaps then others, and to loose no time
In repetition, your strange demeamour
To your sweet daughter.
Malef.
Would you could finde out some other theame to treat of.
Montr.
None but this; and this Ile dwell on, how ridiculous
And subject to construction?
Malef.
No more.
Montr.
You made your selfe, amazes me, and if
The frequent trials enterchanged betweene us
Of love and friendship, be to their desert
Esteem'd by you, as they hold waight with me,
No inward trouble should be of a shape
So horrid to your selfe, but that to me
You stand bound to discover it, and unlocke
Your secretst thoughts: though the most innocent were
Lowd crying sinnes.
Malef.
And so perhaps they are.
And therefore be not curious to learne that
Which knowne must make you hate me.
Montr.
Thinke not so, I am yours in right and wrong, nor shall you finde
A verball friendship in me, but an active,
And here I vow, I shall no sooner know
What the disease is, but if you give leave
I will apply a remedy, is it madnesse?
I am familiarly acquainted with a deepe read man
That can with charmes and hearbs
Restore you to your reason, or suppose
You are bewitch'd he with more potent spels
And magicall rites shall cure you, is't heavens anger?
With penitence and sacrifice appease it,
Beyond this, there is nothing that I can
You are secure, your impious sonne removd to
That rendred you suspected to the state,
And your faire daughter.
Malef.
Oh presse me no farther.
Montr.
Are you wrung there? why what of her? hath she
Made shipwracke of her honour, or conspird
Against your life? or seald a contract with
The divell of hell, for the recovery of her young Inamorato?
Malef.
None of these,
And yet what must increase the wonder in you
Being Innocent in her selfe, she hath wounded me,
But where enquire not. Yet I know not how
I am perswaded from my confidence
Of your vowd love to me, to trust you with
My dearest secret, pray you chide me for it,
But with a kind of pity, not insulting
On my calamity.
Montre.
Forward.
Malef.
This same daughter.
Montre.
What is her fault?
Malef.
She is too faire to me.
Montre.
Ha! how is this?
Malef.
And I have lookd upon her
More than a father should, and languish to
Enjoy her as a husband.
Montre.
Heaven forbid it.
Malef.
And this is all the comfort you can give me,
Where are your promisd ayds, your charmes, your herbs?
Your deepe read scholler, spels, and magicke rites?
Can all these disenchaunt me? no, I must be
My owne Physitian, and upon my selfe
Practice a desperate cure.
Montr.
Doe not contemne me,
Injoyne me what you please with any hazzard,
Ile undertake it, what meanes have you practisd
To quench this hellish fire?
All I could thinke on,
But to no purpose, and yet sometimes absence
Does yeeld a kinde of intermission to
The fury of the fit.
Montr.
See her no more then.
Malef.
Tis my last refuge, and twas my intent
And still 'tis, to desire your helpe.
Montr.
Command it.
Malef.
Thus then, you have a fort of which you are
The absolute Lord, whither I pray you beare her:
And that the sight of her may not againe
Nourish those flames, which I feele something lessend,
By all the ties of friendship I conjure you
And by a solemne oath you must confirme it,
That though my now calmd passions should rage higher
Then ever heretofore, and so compell me
Once more to wish to see her; though I use
Perswasions mixd with threatnings; nay adde to it
That I this fayling should with hands held up thus
Kneele at your feet, and bathe them with my teares,
Prayers or curses, vowes or imprecations
Onely to looke upon her though at distance,
You still must be obdurate.
Montr.
If it be
Your pleasure sir that I shall be unmov'd, I will endeavour.
Malef.
You must sweare to be
Inexorable as you would prevent
The greatest mischiefe to your friend, that fate
Could throw upon him.
Montr.
Well, I will obey you.
But how the governour will be answer'd, yet
And tis materiall, is not confidered.
Malef.
Leave that to me. Ile presently giue order
How you shall surprize her, be not frighted with
Her exclamations.
Montr.
Be you constant to
Your resolution I will not faile
Malef.
Be ever blessed for't.
Exeunt.
Scœna secunda.
Enter Beaufort jun. Chamont, Lanour.Cham.
Not to be spoke with, say you?
Beauf. jun.
No.
Lan.
Nor you
Admitted to have conference with her?
Beauf. jun.
Neither.
His doores are fast lockd up, and solitude
Dwels round about em, no accesse allow'd
To friend or enemy, but—
Cham.
Nay be not mov'd sir,
Let his passion worke, and like a hot rein'd horse
'Twill quickly tire it selfe.
Beauf. jun.
Or in his death
Which for her sake till now I have forborne
I will revenge the injury he hath done
To my true and lawfull love.
Lan.
How does your father
The Governour rellish it?
Beauf. jun.
Troth he never had
Affection to the match: yet in his pitty
To me, he's gone in person to his house,
Nor will he be denide, and if he finde not
Strong and faire reasons Malefort will heare from him
In a kinde he does not looke for.
Cham.
In the meane time
Pray you put on cheerefull lookes.
Enter Montaigne.
Beauf. jun.
Mine suite my fortune.
Lan.
O heer's Montaigne.
Mont.
I never could have met you
More opportunely. Ile not stale the jest
The malecontent Belgarde, newly rigde up
With the traine that followes him, 'twill be an object
Worthy of your noting.
Beauf. jun.
Looke you the Comedy
Make good the Prologue, or the scorne will dwell
Upon your selfe.
Mont.
I'll hazard that, observe now;
Wenches.
Nay, Captaine, glorious Captaine:
Enter Belgarde in a gallant habit; stayes at the doore with his sword drawne; severall voyces within.
Belg.
Fall backe Rascalls,
Doe you make an Owle of me? this day I will
Receive no more Petitions,
Here are bills of all occasions, and all fires!
If this be the pleasure of a rich suite, would I were
Againe in my buffe jerkin, or my armour,
Then I walk'd securely by my creditors noses,
And not a dog mark'd me, every officer shund me,
And not one lowzie prison would receive me;
But now, as the Ballade sayes, I am turnd gallant:
There does not live that thing I ow a sowse to,
But does torment me, a faithfull Cobler told me
With his awle in his hand, I was behind hand with him
For setting me upright, and bad me looke to my selfe.
A Sempstresse too, that traded but in sockes,
Swore she would set a Serjeant on my backe
For a borrowed shirt: my pay and the benevolence,
The Governour and the States bestow'd upon me,
The citie cormorants, my monie-mongers,
Have swallow'd downe already, they were summes,
I grant, but that I should be such a foole
Against my othe, being a cashir'd Captaine,
To pay debts, though growne up to one and twenty,
Deserves more reprehension, in my judgement,
In a long dead vacation.
Mont.
How doe you like
His meditation?
Chamont.
Peace, let him proceed.
Belg.
I cannot now goe on the score for shame,
And where I shall begin to pawne, I marry,
That is consider'd timely, I paid for
This traine of yours Dame Estridge foureteen crowns,
And yet it is so light, 'twill hardly passe
For a Taverne reckoning, unlesse it be
To save the charge of paynting, naild on a post
For the signe of the feathers; pox upon the fashion,
That a Captaine cannot thinke himselfe a Captaine,
If he weare not this like a fore-horse; yet it is not
Staple commodity; these are perfum'd too,
Of the Roman wash, and yet a stale red herring
Would fill the belly better, and hurt the head lesse:
And this is Venice gold, would I had it againe
In french crownes in my pocket. O you commanders
That like me have no dead pales, nor can couzen
The Commissary at a muster, let me stand
For an example to you, as you would
Injoy your priviledges: videlicet,
To pay your debts, and take your lechery gratis
To have your issue warm'd by others fires,
To be often drunke, and sweare, yet pay no forfeit,
To the poore, but when you share with one another,
With all your other choyce immunities,
Onely of this I seriously advise you:
Let Courtiers trip like Courtiers,
And your Lords of dirt and dung hills mete
Their woods and acres, in velvets, sattins, tissues,
But keepe you constant to cloth and shamois.
Mont.
Flave you heard of such a penitent homily,
Belg.
I am studying now
Where I shall hide my selfe till the rumor of
There is a kinde of a vaulting house not farre off,
Where I us'd to spend my afternoones, among
Suburb shee-gamesters; and yet now I thinke on't
I have crackd a ring or two there, which they made
Others to solder, no,
Enter a Bawd and two wenches, with two children.
1. Wench.
O, have we spide you.
Bawd.
Upon him without ceremonie, nows the time
While he is in the paying veine.
2. Wench.
Save you brave Captaine.
Beauf. jun.
S'light, how she stares, they are worse then she-wolves to him.
Belg.
Shame me not in the streets, I was comming to you.
1. Wen.
O Sir, you may in publique pay for the fidling
You had in private.
2. Wen.
We heare you are full of crownes, Sir.
1. Wen.
And therefore knowing you are open-handed,
Before all be destroyd, I'll put you in mind, Sir,
Of your young heire here.
2. Wen.
Here's a second, Sir,
That lookes for a childs portion.
Bawd.
There are reckonings
For Muskadine and Egs too, must be thought on.
1. Wen.
We have not beene hasty, Sir.
Bawd.
But staid your leasure;
But now you are ripe, and loden with fruit.
2. VVen.
Tis fit you should be puld; here's a boy, Sir,
Pray you kisse him, tis your owne, Sir,
1. Wench.
Nay, buffe this first,
It hath just your eyes, and such a promising nose,
That if the signe deceive me not, in time
Twill prove a notable striker, like his father.
Belg.
And yet you laid it to another.
1. Wen.
True,
While you were poore, and it was policy,
But she that has varietie of fathers,
And makes not choyce of him that can maintaine it,
Nere studied Aristotles Problemes.
A smart queane.
Belg.
Why braches will you whurry me?
2. Wen.
No, but ease you
Of your golden burthen, the heavie carriage may
Bring you to a sweating sicknesse.
Belg.
Very likely,
I foame all ore alreadie.
1. Wen.
Will you come off, Sir?
Belg.
Would I had ne're come on: heare me with patience,
Or I will anger you. Goe to, you know me
And doe not vexe me further: by my sins
And your diseases, which are certaine truthes,
What ere you thinke, I am not master at
This instant, of a livre.
2. Wen.
What, and in
Such a glorious suite?
Belg.
The liker wretched things
To have no mony.
Bawd.
You may pawne your clothes, Sir,
1. Wen.
Will you see your issue starve?
2. Wen.
Or the mothers beg?
Belg.
Why, you unconscionable strumpets, would you have me
Transforme my hat to double clouts and biggins?
My corselet to a cradle? or my belt
To swaddlebands? or turne my cloke to blankets?
Or to sell my sword and spurs for sope and candles?
Have you no mercy? what a chargeable divell
We carry in our breeches?
Beauf. jun.
Now tis time
To fetch him off.
Enter Beaufort sen.
Mont.
Your father does it for us.
Bawd.
The Governour!
Beauf. sen.
What are these?
1. Wen.
And it like your Lordship,
Very poore spinsters.
Bawd.
I am his Nurse and Landresse,
You have nurs'd and lander'd me, hell take you for it.
Vanish.
Cham.
Doe, doe, and talke with him hereafter.
1. Wen.
Tis our best course
2. Wen.
We'll find a time to fit him.
Exit Bawd and Whores.
Beauf. sen.
Why, in this heat, Belgarde
Belg.
You are the cause of't.
Beauf. sen.
Who, I?
Belg.
Yes, your pied liverie, and your gold
Draw these vexations on mee, pray you strip me
And let me be as I was: I will not lose
The pleasures and the fredome which I had
In my certaine povertie; for all the wealth
Faire France is proud of?
Beauf. sen.
Wee at better leasure
Will learne the cause of this.
Beauf. jun.
What answer, Sir,
From the Admirall?
Beauf. sen.
None, his daughter is remov'd
To the fort of Montrevile, and he himselfe
In person fled, but where is not discover'd,
I could tell you wonders, but the time denies mee
Fit libertie. In a word, let it suffice
The power of our great master is contemn'd,
The sacred lawes of God and man prophan'd,
And if I sit downe with this injury,
I am unworthy of my place, and thou
Of my acknowledgement: draw up all the troopes,
As I goe, I will instruct you to what purpose,
Such as have power to punish, and yet spare
From feare, or from connivence, others ill
Though not in act assist them in their will
Exeunt.
| The Vnnatvrall Combat | |