University of Virginia Library

Act. 3.

Scæn. 1.

Enter Octavio, (a Book in's hand.)
Oct.
'Tis true, by proof I find it, humane reason
Views with such dim eyes what is good or ill,
That if the great Disposer of our being
Should offer to our choice all worldly blessings,
We knew not what to take.—
When I was young,
Ambition of Court-preferment fir'd me;
And as there were no happiness beyond it,
I labour'd for't and got it; no man stood
In greater favour with his Prince, I had
Honors and offices, wealth flow'd in to me,
And for my service both in peace and war
The general voice gave out I did deserve 'em.
But oh vain confidence in subordinate greatness!
When I was most secure, it was not in
The power of fortune to remove me from
The flat I firmly stood on: in a moment
My vertues were made crimes, and popular favor
(To new-rais'd men still fatal) bred suspition
That I was dangerous: which no sooner entred
Gonzago's breast, but straight my ruine follow'd;
My offices were took from me, my state seis'd on;
And had I not prevented it by flight,
The jealousie of the Duke had been remov'd
With the forfeiture of my head.

[Within Galeaz.]
Or shew compassion, or I will force it.

Oct.
Ha! is not poverty safe?
I thought proud war that aim'd at kingdoms ruines,
The sack of palaces and cities, scorn'd
To look on a poor cottage.

Enter Galeazo (with Ascanio in's arms) Gothrio following.
Goth.
What would you have?
The devil sleeps in my pocket, I have no cross
To drive him from it. Be you or thief, or soldier,
Or such a begger as will not be denied,
My scrip, my tar-box, hook and coat will prove
But a thin purchase; if you turn my inside
Searches his scrip.
Outwards, you'll find it true.

Gal.
Not any food?

Goth.
Alas sir,
I am no glutton, but an under-shepherd,
The very picture of famine; judg by my cheeks else:
I have my pittance by ounces, and starve my self;
When I pay a pensioner, I have an antient mouse,
A crum a meal.

[Takes the bottle.]
Gal.
No drop left?
Drunkard, hast thou swill'd up all?

Goth.
How? Drunkard, sir! I am a poor man, you mistake me sir:
Drunkard's a title for the rich, my betters;
A calling in repute, some sell their lands for't,
And rore wines better then mony. Our poor beveridg
Of buttermilk or whey allaid with water,
Ne'r raise our thoughts so high. Drunk! I had never
The credit to be so yet.

Gal.
Ascanio, look up dear youth: Ascanio, did thy sweetness
Command the greedy enemy to forbear
To prey upon it? and I thank my fortune
For suffering me to live, that in some part
I might return thy courtesies: And now
To heighten my afflictions, must I be
Inforc'd, no pittying Angel near to help us,
Heaven deaf to my complaints too, to behold thee
Die in my arms for hunger? no means left
To lengthen life a little? I will open
A vein, and pour my blood, not yet corrupted
With any sinful act, but pure as he is,
Into his famish'd mouth.

Octa.
Young man forbear
Thy savage pitty; I have better means
To call back flying life.

They apply themselves to Ascanio.
Goth.
You may believe him,
It is his sucking-bottle, and confirms
An old man's twice a child; his nurses milk
Was ne'r so chargeable: should you put in too
For sope and candles, though he sell his flock for't,
The baby must have this dug: he swears 'tis ill
For my complexion, but wondrous comfortable
For an old man that would never die.

Oct.
Hope well sir,
A temperate heat begins to thaw his numness,
The blood too by degrees takes fresh possession
On his pale cheeks, his pulse beats high; stand off,
Give him more air, he stirs:

[Goth. steals the bottle.]
Goth.
And have I got thee, thou bottle of immortality?

Asca.
Where am I?
What cruel hand hath forc'd back wretched life?
Is rest in death denied me?

Goth.
O sweet liquor!
Were here enough to make me drunk, I might
Write my self Gentleman, and never buy
A coat of the Heralds.

Oct.
How now slave?

Goth.
I was fainting,
A clownlike qualm seis'd on me, but I am
Recover'd, thanks to your bottle, and begin
To feel new stirrings, gallant thoughts; one draught more
Will make me a perfect Signior.

Oct.
A tough cudgel
Will take this gentle itch off: Home to my cottage,
See all things handsom.

Goth.
Good sir, let me have
The bottle along to smell to: O rare perfume!

Ex:
Gal.
Speak once more, dear Ascanio! How he eyes you,
Then turns away his face! Look up sweet youth,
The object cannot hurt you; this good man
Next heaven is your preserver.

Asc.
Would I had perish'd
Without relief, rather then live to break
His good old heart with sorrow. O my shame!
My shame, my never dying shame!

Oct.
I have been
Acquainted with this voice, and know the face too:
'Tis she, 'tis too apparent; O my daughter!
I mourn'd long for thy loss; but thus to find thee,
Is more to be lamented.

Gal.
How? your daughter!

Oct.
My only child: I murmur'd against heaven
Because I had no more; but now I find
This one too many. Is Alonzo glutted
[Asc. weeps]
With thy embraces?

Gal.
At his name a shower
Of tears fals from her eyes: she faints agen.
Grave sir, overrule your passion, and defer
The story of your fortune: On my life
She is a worthy one, her innocence
Might be abus'd, but mischiefs self wants power
To make her guilty. Shew your self a Father
In her recovery; then as a Judge,
When she hath strength to speak in her own cause,
You may determine of her.

Oct.
I much thank you
For your wise counsel: you direct me sir
As one indebted more to years, and I
As a pupil will obey you. Not far hence
I have a homely dwelling; if you please there
To make some short repose, your entertainment
Though course, shall relish of a gratitude,
And that's all I can pay you. Look up Girl,
Thou art in thy Fathers arms.

Gal.
She's weak and faint still:
O spare your age! I am young and strong, and this way
To serve her is a pleasure, not a burthen:
Pray you lead the way.

Oct.
The Saints reward your goodness.

Exeunt.
Enter Manfroy, and Matilda (disguis'd.)
Mat.
No hope of safety left?

Manf.
We are descry'd.

Mat.
I thought, that cover'd in this poor disguise
I might have pass'd unknown.

Manf.
A diamond, though set in horn, is still a diamond,
And sparkles as in purest gold. We are follow'd:
Out of the troops that scour'd the plains, I saw
Two gallant horsmen break forth, (who by their
Brave furniture and habiliments for the war
Seem'd to command the rest) spurring hard towards us;
See with what winged speed they climb the hill
Like Falcons on the stretch to seise the prey;
Now they dismount, and on their hands and knees
Orecome the deep ascent that guards us from him.
Your beauty hath betraid you; for it can
No more be night when bright Apollo shines
In our Meridian, then that be conceal'd.

Mat.
It is my curse, not blessing; fatal to
My Country, Father, and my self: why did you
Forsake the City?

Manf.
'Twas the Dukes command,
No time to argue that; we must descend:
If undiscover'd your soft feet (unus'd
To such rough travail) can but carry you
Half a league hence, I know a cave which will.
Yield us protection.

Mat.
I wish I could lend you
Part of my speed; for me, I can outstrip
Daphne or Atalanta.

Manf.
Some good Angel
Defend us, and strike blind our hot pursuers.

Exeunt.
Enter Alonzo and Pisano.
Alon.
She cannot be far off; how gloriously
She shew'd to us in the valley!

Pisa.
In my thought
Like to a blazing Comet.

Alon.
Brighter far:
Her beams of beauty made the hill all fire;
From whence remov'd, 'tis cover'd with thick clouds.
But we lose time; I'll take that way.

Pisa.
Exeunt.
Enter Galeazo.

[Lies down]
Enter Alonzo, Pisano, Matilda.
Mat.
Are you men, or monsters?
Whither will you drag me? can the open ear
Of heaven be deaf, when an unspotted Maid
Cries out for succor!

Pisa.
'Tis in vain; cast lots who shall enjoy her first.

Alon.
Flames rage within me,
And such a spring of Nectar neer to quench 'em!
My appetite shall be cloy'd first: here I stand
Thy friend, or enemy; let me have precedence,
I write a friends name in my heart; deny it,
As an enemy I defie thee.

Pisa.
Friend or foe
In this alike I value, I disdain
To yield priority; draw thy sword.

Alon.
To sheath it in thy ambitious heart.

Mat.
O curb this fury,
And hear a wretched Maid first speak!

Gal.
I am marble.

Mat.
Where shall I seek out words, or how restrain
My Enemies rage, or Lovers? oh the latter
Is far more odious: did not your lust
Provoke you, for that is its proper name,
My chastity were safe;
And yet I tremble more
To think what dire effects lust may bring forth,
Then what as enemies you can inflict,
And less I fear it. Be friends to your selves,
And enemies to me: Better I fall
A sacrifice to your attonement, then
Or one, or both should perish. I am the cause
Of your division; remove it, Lords,
And concord will spring up: poison this face
That hath bewitch'd you; this grove cannot want
Aspicks or Toads, creatures though justly call'd
For their deformity the scorn of nature,
More happy then my self with this false beauty
(The seed and fruit of mischief) you admire so.
I thus embrace your knees, and yours a suppliant,
If Tigres did not nurse you, or you suck
The milk of a fierce Lioness, shew compassion
Unto your selves in being reconcil'd,
And pitty to poor me, my honor safe,
In taking loath'd life from me.

Pisa.
What shall we do?
Or end our difference in killing her,
Or fight it out?

Alon.
To the last gasp. I feel
The moist tears on my cheeks, and blush to find
A Virgins plaints can move so.

Pisa.
To prevent
Her flight while we contend, let's bind her fast
To this Cipress-tree.

Alon.
Agreed.

Mat.
It does presage my funeral rites.

Gal.
I shall turn Atheist,
If heaven see and suffer this: why did I
Abandon my good sword? with unarm'd hands
I cannot rescue her. Some Angel pluck me
From the apostasie I am falling to,
And by a miracle lend me a weapon
To underprop falling honor.

Pisa.
She is fast, resume your arms.

Alon.
Honor, revenge, the Maid too
Lie at the stake.

Pisa.
Which thus I draw—

They fight, Pisano fals.
Alon.
All's mine,
But bought with some blood of mine own: Pisano,
Thou wert a noble Enemy; wear that laurel
In death to comfort thee; for the reward,
'Tis mine now without Rival.

Galeazo snatches up Pisano's sword.
Gal.
Thou art deceiv'd;
Men will grow up like to the Dragons teeth
From Cadmus helm sown in the field of Mars,
To guard pure Chastity from lust and rape.
Libidinous monster, Satyre, Fawn, or what
Does better speak thee slave to appetite
And sensual baseness; if thy profane hand
But touch this virgin-temple, thou art dead.

Mat.
I see the aid of Heaven, though slow, is sure.

Alon.
A rustick swain dare to retard my pleasure?

Gal.
No swain, Alonzo, but her knight and servant
To whom the world should owe and pay obedience;
One that thou hast encountred, and shrunk under
His arm, that spar'd thy life in the late battel
At th'intercession of the Princess page; look on me better.

Mat.
'Tis my vertuous Lover,
Under his guard 'twere sin to doubt my safety.

Alon.
I know thee, and with courage will redeem
What fortune then took from me.

Gal.
Rather keep
[Fight. Alon. fals.]
Thy Compeer company in death—lie by him
A prey for Crows and Vulturs; these fair arms
He unbinds Matilda.
Unfit for bonds, should have been chains to make
A Bridegroom happy, though a Prince, and proud
Of such captivity: whatsoe'r you are,
I glory in the service I have done you;
But I intreat you pay your vows and prayers
For preservation of your life and honor,
To the most vertuous Princess, chaste Matilda:
I am her creature, and what good I do
You truly may call hers; what's ill, mine own.

Mat.
You never did do ill, my vertuous servant,
Nor is it in the power of poor Matilda
To cancel such an obligation as
With humble willingness she must subscribe to.

Gal.
The Prencess? ha!

Mat.
Give me a fitter name,
Your manumissed Bondwoman, but even now
In the possession of lust, from which
Your more then brave heroick valor bought me;
And can I then for freedom unexpected
But kneel to you my Patron?

Gal.
Kneel to me!
For heav'ns sake rise; I kiss the ground you tread on,
My eyes fix'd on the earth; for I confess
I am a thing not worthy to look on you,
Till you have sign'd my pardon.

Mat.
Do you interpret
The much good you have done me, an offence?

Gal.
The not performing your injunctions to me,
Is more then capital: Your allowance of
My love and service to you, with admission
To each place you made paradise with your presence,
Should have inabled me to bring home Conquest.
Then, as a sacrifice to offer it
At the altar of your favor, had my love
Answer'd your bounty or my hopes, an Army
Had been as dust before me; whereas I
Like a coward turn'd my back, and durst not stand
The fury of the Enemy.

Mat.
Had you done nothing
In the battel, this last act deserves more
Then I, the Duke my father joining with me,
Can ever recompence. But take your pleasure,
Suppose you have offended in not grasping
Your boundless hopes; I thus seal on your lips
A full remission.

Gal.
Let mine touch your foot, your hand's too high a favour.

Mat.
Will you force me to ravish a kiss from you?

Gal.
I am intranc'd.

Mat.
So much Desert, and Bashfulness, should not march
In the same file: Take comfort, when you have brought me
To some place of security, you shall find
You have a seat here, a heart that hath
Already studied, and vow'd to be thankful.

Gal.
Heaven make me so! oh I am overwhelm'd
With an excess of joy! Be not too prodigal,
Divinest Lady, of your grace and bounties
At once, if you are pleas'd I shall enjoy 'em,
Not taste 'em and expire.

Mat.
I'll be more sparing.

Exeunt.
Enter Octavio, Gothrio, and Maria.
Oct.
What noise of clashing swords, like armor fashion'd
Upon an anvile, pierc'd mine ears? the eccho
Redoubling the loud sound through all the vallies,
This way the wind assures me that it came.

Goth.
Then with your pardon I'll take this.

Oct.
Why sirra?

Goth.
Because, sir, I will trust my heels before
All winds that blow in the sky: We are wiser far
Then our Grandsires were, and in this I'll prove it;
They said, Haste to the beginning of a Feast,
(There I am with 'em) but to the end of a Fray,
That is apocryphal, 'tis more canonical
Not to come there at all; after a storm
There are still some drops behind.

Asc.
Pure fear hath made the Fool a Philosopher.

Oct.
See Maria, see!
I did not erre; here lie two brave men weltring
In their own gore.

Asc.
A pittiful object.

Goth.
I am in a swoun to look on't.

Oct.
They are stiff already.

Goth.
But are you sure they are dead?

Oct.
Too sure, I fear.

Goth.
But are they stark dead?

Oct.
Leave prating.

Goth.
Then I am valiant, and dare come nearer to 'em,
This fellow without a sword shall be my Patient.

Oct.
Whate'r they are, humanity commands us
To do our best endeavour: Run Maria
To the neighbour Spring for water; you will find there
A wooden dish, the beggers plate, to bring it.
Exit Maria.
Why dost not, dull drone, bend his body, and feel
If any life remain?

Goth.
By your leave he shall die first, and then I'll be his Surgeon.

Oct.
Tear ope his doublet,
And prove if his wounds be mortal,

Goth.
Fear not me sir;
Here's a large wound, how it is swoln and impostum'd!
[His pocket]
This must be cunningly drawn out; should it break,
Puls out his purse.
'Twould strangle him: what a deal of foul matter's here!
His little pocket.
This hath been long a gathering: Here's a gash too
On the reme of his belly, it may have matter in it.
He was a cholerique man sure: what comes from him
[Gold]
Is yellow as gold: How troubled with the Stone too!
[A Diamond-Ring]
I'll cut you for this.

Pisa.
Oh, oh!

[Starts up and quakes]
Goth.
He roars before I touch him.

Pisa.
Robb'd of my life?

Goth.
No sir, nor of your mony
Nor jewel, I keep 'em for you; if I had been
A perfect Mountebank, he had not liv'd
To call for his fees again.

Oct.
Give me leave, there's hope of his recovery.

Goth.
I had rather bury him quick
Then part with my purchase; let his ghost walk, I care not.

Enter Maria (with a dish of water.)
Oct.
Well done Maria, lend thy helping hand;
He hath a deep wound in his head, wash off
The clotted blood: He comes to himself.

Alon.
My lust!
The fruit that grows upon the tree of lust!
With horror now I taste it.

Oct.
Do you not know him?

Asc.
Too soon, Alonzo! oh me! though disloyal,
Still dear to thy Maria.

Goth.
So they know not
My Patient, all's cock-sure: I do not like
The Romanish restitution.

Oct.
Rise and leave him, applaud heavens justice.

Asc.
'Twill become me better
T'implore its saving mercy.

Oct.
Hast thou no gall? no feeling of thy wrongs?

Asc.
Turtles have none; nor can there be such poison in her breast
That truly loves, and lawfully.

Oct.
True, if that love
Be plac'd on a worthy subject. What he is,
In thy disgrace is publish'd; Heaven hath mark'd him
For punishment, and 'twere rebellious madness
In thee t'attempt to alter it: Revenge,
A soveraign balm for injuries, is more proper
To thy rob'd honor. Join with me, and thou
Shalt be thy self the Goddess of revenge,
This wretch the vassal of thy wrath: I'll make him
While yet he lives, partake those torments which
For perjur'd Lovers are prepar'd in hell,
Before his curs'd ghost enter it. This oil
Extracted and sublim'd from all the simples
The earth when swoln with venom e'r brought forth,
Pour'd in his wounds, shall force such anguish as
The Furies whips but imitate; and when
Extremity of pain shall hasten death,
Here is another that shall keep in life,
And make him feel a perpetuity of lingring tortures.

Goth.
Knock 'em both on the head, I say,
And it be but for their skins; they are embroider'd,
And will sell well i'th' market:

Asc.
Ill-look'd Devil,
Tie up thy bloody tongue. O sir! I was slow
In beating down those propositions which
You urge for my revenge; my reasons being
So many, and so forcible, that make
Against yours, that until I had collected
My scatter'd powers, I waver'd in my choice
Which I should first deliver. Fate hath brought
My Enemy (I can faintly call him so)
Prostrate before my feet: shall I abuse
The bounty of my fate, by trampling on him?
He alone ruin'd me, nor can any hand
But his rebuild my late demolish'd honor.
If you deny me means of reparation
To satisfie your spleen, you are more cruel
Then ever yet Alonzo was; you stamp
The name of Strumpet on my forehead, which
Heavens mercy would take off; you fan the fire
Ev'n ready to go out; forgetting that
'Tis truly noble, having power to punish,
Nay King-like to forbear it. I would purchase
My husband by such benefits, as should make him
Confess himself my equal, and disclaim superiority.

Oct.
My blessing on thee!
What I urg'd, was a trial; and my grant
To thy desires shall now appear, if art
Or long experience can do him service,
Nor shall my charity to this be wanting,
Howe'r unknown: Help me Maria; You sir,
Do your best to raise him.—So.

Goth.
He's wondrous heavy;
But the Porter's paid, there's the comfort.

Oct.
'Tis but a trance, and 'twill forsake both.

Asc.
If he live, I fear not
He will redeem all, and in thankfulness
Confirm he ows you for a second life,
And pays the debt in making me his wife.

Exeunt.