 | The Noble Gentleman |  |
Actus quartus.
Enter Cozen his Wife.Co.
Sirra is all things carried to the Taylor,
The measure and the fashion of the gowne
With the best trim?
Man.
Yes Sir & 'twill be ready within this two dayes.
Co.
For my selfe I care not,
I have a suite or two of ancient velvet;
Which with some small correcting and addition
May steale into the presence.
Wife.
Would my Gowne were ready husband, I'le lay my life,
To make you something ere to morrow night.
Co.
It must not bee
Before we see the Duke, and have advice,
How to behave our selves: lets in the while,
And keep our selves from knowledge till time shall call us
Exeunt.
Enter Long. and Bewford.
Long.
I much admire the fierce masculine spirit,
Of this dread Amazon.
Bew.
This following night I'le have a wench in solace.
Long.
Sir, I heare you.
And will be with you if I live, no more.
Enter Maria.
Ma.
My Lady would intreate your presence Gentlman.
Bew.
We will obey your Lady, she is worthy.
Long.
You light alone, a word, or two.
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Your will Sir.
Long.
Harke in your eare, wilt thou be maried? speake, wilt thou marry?
Ma.
Maried? to whom Sir?
Long.
To a proper fellow, landed, and able bodied, be free,
Ma.
Why do you flout me Sir?
Long.
I sweare I do not, I love thee for thy Ladies sake,
Ma.
If I could meet such matches as you speake of,
I were a very child to loose my time, Sir.
Long.
What saiest thou to Mounsier Bewford.
Mar.
Sir I say hee's a proper Gentleman, and far
Above my meanes to looke at.
Long.
Dost thou like him?
Ma.
Yes Sir, and ever did.
Long.
He is thine owne.
Mar.
You are too greate in promises.
Long.
Be rul'd and follow my advice, he shall be thine
Mar.
Would you would make it good Sir.
Long.
Do but thus,
Get thee a cushion underneath thy cloathes,
And leave the rest to me.
Mar.
I'le be your scholler,
I cannot loose much by the venture sure.
Long.
Thou wilt loose a prettie maiden head, my rogue,
Or I am much o'th bow hand, you'le remember
If all this take effect, who did it for you,
And what I may deserve for such a kindnesse.
Ma.
Yours Sir.
Exeunt.
Enter Jaques and Shatillion severally.
Ja.
Save ye Sir.
Sha.
Save the King.
Ja.
I pray you Sir, which is the nearest way?
Sha.
Save the King, this is the nearest way.
Ja.
Which is the nearest way to the post house?
Sha.
God save the King and his post horse.
Ja.
I pray Sir direct me to the house;
Sha.
Heaven save the King, you cannot catch me Sir.
Ja.
I do not understand you Sir.
Sha.
You do not, I say you cannot catch me Sir.
Ja.
Not catch you Sir?
Sha.
No Sir, nor can the King,
With all his stratagems, and his forced tricks,
Although he put his nobles in disguise,
Never so oft to fift into my words,
By course of law, lay hold upon my life.
Ja.
It is businesse that my Lord the Duke
Is by the King imployed in, and he thinks
I am acquainted with it.
Sha.
I shall not need to ripp the cause up,
From the first to you,
But if his Majesty had suffered me
To marry her, though she be after him,
The right heire generall to the Crowne of France.
I would not have convayed her into Spaine,
As it was thought, nor would I ere have joyn'd,
With the reformed Churches to make them,
Stand for my cause.
Ja.
I do not thinke you would.
Shat.
I thanke you Sir,
And since I see you are a favorer
Of vertues, kept in bondage;
Tell directly to my soveraigne King,
For so I will acknowledge him for ever,
How you have found my staid affections
Setled for peace, and for the present state.
Ja.
Why Sir?
Sha.
And good Sir tell him further this,
That notwithstanding all suggestions
Brought to him against me and all his suspitions,
Which are innumerall to my treasons,
If he will warrant me but publique tryall,
I'le freely yeild my selfe into his hands;
Can he have more then this?
Ja.
No by my troth.
Sha.
I would his Majesty would heare but reason,
As well as you.
Ja.
But Sir you do mistake me,
For I never saw the King
In all my life but once, therefore good Sir,
May it please you to shew me which is the post house.
Sha.
I cry you mercie Sir, then you'r my freind.
Ja.
Yes Sir.
Sha.
And such men are very rare with me,
The post house is hard by, farewell;
Ja.
I thanke you Sir, I must ride hard to night,
And it is darke already.
Shat.
I am cruell to send this man directly to his death
That is my freind, and I might easily save him,
He shall not dye, come backe my freind, come backe.
Ja.
What is your will?
Sha.
do you not know?
Ja.
Not I.
Sha.
And do you gather nothing by my face?
Ja.
No Sir.
Sha.
Vertue is ever innocent,
La not the fault on me, I greive for you,
And wish that all my teares might win your safety.
Ja.
Why Sir?
Sha.
Alas good freind you are undone,
The more ill fortune, mine to be the meanes
Of your sad overthrow you know not me.
Ja.
No truely Sir.
Sha.
Would you had never seene me,
I am a man pursu'd by the whole state
And sure some one hath seene me talke with you.
Ja.
Yes divers Sir.
Sha.
Why then your head is gon.
Ja.
I'le out of towne.
Sha.
Would it were soone enough,
Stay if you love your life; or else you are taken.
Ja.
What shall I do?
Sha.
I'le venture deeply for him,
Rather then to cast away an innocent,
Take courage friend, I will preserve thy life,
With hazard of mine owne.
Ja.
I thanke you Sir.
Sha.
This night thou shalt be lodg'd within my doores,
Which shall be all lookt fast, and in the morne
I'le so provide, you shall have free accesse,
To the Sea side and so be shipt away,
Ere any know it.
Ja.
Good Sir suddainly I am afraide to dye.
Sha.
Then follow me.
Exeunt.
Enter Shatillions Love.
Love.
This way he went, and there's the house I hope,
His better Angell hath directed him,
To leave the wandring streetes, poore Gentleman.
Would I were able with as free a hart,
To set his soule right, as I am to grieue,
The ruine of his fame, which God forgive me,
Sir if you be within, I pray Sir speake to me.
Shat.
I am within and will be, what are you?
Love.
A friend.
Shat.
No Sir you must pardon me,
I am acquainted with none such: be speedy,
Friend there is no other remedy.
Love.
A word Sir I say I am your friend.
40
You cannot scape by any other meanes,
Be not feareful, God save the King,
What's your businesse Sir?
Lov.
To speake with you.
Shat.
Speake out then?
Lov.
Shall I not come up?
Shat.
Thou shalt not: flye if thou beest thin own friend,
There lyes the sute and all the furniture
Belonging to the head, on with it friend.
Lov.
Sir do you heare?
Shat.
I do, God blesse the King,
It was a habit I had laid aside,
For my owne person if the state had forced me.
Love.
Good Sir unlocke your dore.
Shat.
Be full of speede, I see some 20 Musketeeres in ambush,
What ere thou art, know I am here and will be,
Seest thou this bloody sword that cryes revenge?
Shake not my friend, through millions of these foes
I'le be thy guard and set thee safe a board.
Lov.
Dare you not trust me Sir?
Shat.
My good before me,
And my alleagance to the King I tell thee
Captaine (for so I guesse thee by thy armes)
And the loose stancks of halberdeeres about thee,
Thou art too weake and foolish to attempt me.
If you be ready follow me, and harke you
Upon your life speake to no living wight,
Except my selfe.
Love.
Monsieur Shattillion?
Shat.
Thou shalt not call agen; thus with my sword,
And the strong faith I beare unto the King;
Whom God preserve, I will descend my chamber,
And cut thy throate, I sweare I'le cut thy throate,
Steale after me and live.
Love.
I will not stay.
The furie of a man so farr distracted.
Exit Love.
Enter Shattillion.
Where's the Officer that dares not enter,
To intrap the life of my distressed friend?
I, have you hid your selfe? you must be found,
What do you feare? is not authority on your side
Nay, I know the Kings command
Will be your warrant, why then feare you? speake
What strange designes are these? Shattillion,
Be resolute and beare thy selfe upright,
Though the whole world despise thee: soft, me thinks.
I heard a rushing which was like the shake
Of a discovered Officer, I'le search
The whole streete over, but I'le finde thee out.
Exit.
Enter Jaques, in womens a parrell.
Ja.
How my joyntes do shake, where had I been
But for this worthy Gentleman, that
Hath some touch of my infortunes: would I were
Safe under hatches once for Callicut,
Farewell the pomp of Court, I never more
Can hope to be a Duke or any thing,
I never more shall see thy glorious face;
Of my faire spreading Lord that loved me well.
Enter Shattillion.
Shat.
Flye you so fast? I had a fight of you,
But would not follow you; I was too wise,
You shall not lead me with a cunning tricke,
Where you may catch me; poore Shatillion;
Hath the Kings anger left thee never a friend?
No, all mens loves move by the breath of Kings.
Ja.
It is the Gent. that sav'd my life, Sir.
Shat.
Blesse Shatillion, another plot.
Ja.
No Sir, 'tis I.
Shat.
Why, who are you?
Ja.
Your friend whom you preserved.
Shat.
Whom I preserved?
My friend? I have no woman friend but one,
Who is to close in prison to be here;
Come neere let me looke on you.
Ja.
'Tis I.
Shat.
You should not be a woman by your stature.
Ja.
I am none Sir.
Shat.
I know it, then keepe off,
Strange men and times! how I am still preserv'd?
Here they have sent a yeoman of the guard
Disguis'd in womans cloathes to worke on me,
To make love to me; and to trap my words,
And so insnare my life, I know you Sir,
Stand back upon your perill, can this bee
In christian common weales? from this time forth
I'le cut off all the meanes to worke on me.
I'le nere stirr from my house: and keep my doores
Lockt day and night, and cheapen meat and drink
At the next shops by signes, out of my window,
And having bought it draw it up in my garters.
Ja.
Sir, will you help me?
Shat.
Do not follow me,
I'le take a course to live despight of men.
Exit Shat.
Ja.
He dares not venture for me, wretched Jaques
Thou art undone for ever and for ever,
Never to rise againe: what shall I do?
Enter Bew.
Where shall I hide me? heres one to take me,
I must stand close, and not speake for my life.
Bew.
This is the time of night, and this the haunte,
In which I use to catch my wasccoatieres,
It is not very darke, no I shall spie 'em,
I have walkt out in such a pitchy night.
I could not see my fingers this farr off,
And yet have brought whom venson by the smell,
I hope they have not left their old walke, ah?
Have I spied you sitting by this light?
To me theres no such fine sight in the world,
As a white-apron twixt twelve and one;
See how it glisters? do you thinke to scape?
So now I have you fast; come and do not strive,
It takes away the edge of appetite;
Come I'le be liberall every way,
Exeunt
Take heed you make no noyse for waking of the watch.
Enter Cozen and his Wife.
Coz.
Now the blessing of some happy guide,
To bring us to the Duke and we are ready.
Enter Long. and Servant.
Come forward see the doore is opend,
And two of his Gent. I'le speake to them,
And marke how I behave my selfe, God saue yee:
For lesse I cannot wish to men of sort, & of your seeming
Are you of the Dukes?
Long.
We are Sir, and your servants, your salutes,
We give you backe againe with many thankes.
Co.
When did you heare such words before wife? peace,
Do you not dare to answer yet; s't fit
So meane a Gentleman as my selfe should crave,
The presence of the great Duke your Master?
Ser.
Sir you may.
Long.
Shall we desire your name and businesse Sir,
And wee will presently informe him of you.
Co.
My name is Cleremont
Ser.
You are his graces kinsman,
Of I am much mistaken;
Co.
You are right,
41
Though far unworthy of his graces knowledge.
Long.
Sir we must all be yours; his graces kinsman,
And we so much forgetfull? 'twas a rudenesse,
And must attend your pardon, thus I crave it:
First to this beauteous Lady, whom I take
To be your wife Sir, next your mercie.
Cous.
You have it Sir, I do not like this kissing,
It lyes so open to a world of wishes.
Ser.
This is the merry fellow, this is he
That must be noble too.
Long.
And so he shall.
If all the art I have can make him noble,
I'le dub him with a Knight-hood; if his wife
VVill be but forward, and joyne issue,
I like her above excellent.
Ser.
VVilt please you
To walke a turne or two, whilst to the Duke
VVe make your comming known?
Exit Ser. & Long.
Cous.
I shal attend, Sir.
Wife.
These Gentlemen are very proper men,
And kisse the best that ere I tasted.
For goodnesse-sake husband let us never more
Come neare the Countrey, what so ere betide us;
I am in malice with the memory
Of that same stinking dung-hill.
Cous.
VVhy now you are my chicken and my dear,
Love where I love, hate where I hate, now
You shall have twenty gownes, and twenty chaines,
See, the doore is opening.
Groom.
Roome afore there, the Duke is entring.
Enter Duke, Wife, Long. Servant, Maria.
Cos.
'Tis the Duke, even he himselfe, be merry,
This is the golden age the Poet speaks on.
Wife.
I pray it be not brazen'd, by their faces,
And yet me thinks they are the neatest pieces
For shape and cutting that ere I beheld.
Cous.
Most gracious Duke, my poor Spouse & my selfe
Do kisse your mighty foote, and next to that
The great hand of your Duchesse, ever wishing
Your honours ever-springing, and your yeares.
Du.
Cozen?
Cous.
Your Graces vassall, far unworthy
The nearnesse of your blood.
Du.
Correct me not, I know the word I speake,
And know the person.
Though I be something higher then the place
VVhere common men have motion, and discending
Down with my eye, their formes are lessened to me,
Yet from this pitch can I behold my owne,
From millions of those men that have no marke,
And in my fearfull stoop, can make them stand.
VVhen others feele my soule and perish, Cozen
Be comforted, you are very welcome, so
Is your faire wife: the charge of whom I give
To my own dearest and best beloved.
Tell me, have you resolv'd your selfe for Court,
And utterly renounce the slavish Countrey,
VVith all the cares thereof?
Cous.
I have sir.
Du.
Have you dismist your eating houshold,
Sold your hangings of Nebuchadnezar, for such they were,
As I remember, with the furnitures
Belonging to your beds and chambers?
Cous.
I Sir.
Du.
Have you most carefully tane off the lead,
From your roofe weake with age, and so prevented
The ruine of your house, and clapt him
In a summer suite of thatch to keepe him coole?
Cous.
All this I have perform'd.
Du.
Then lend me all your hands, I will embrace my Cozen
VVho is an understanding Gentleman,
And with a zeale mighty as is my name,
Once more I bid you welcome to the Court;
My state againe.
Duch.
As I was telling you your husband
Must be no more Commander, looke to that,
Be severall at meate, and lodging, let him have
Boord-wages and dyet 'mongst his men it'h towne
For pleasure if he be given too't let him have it,
Else as your own fancie shall direct you.
Cozen, you see this mighty man here: he was an asse
When he came first to towne: indeed he was
Just such another coxcomb as your husband,
God blesse the mark and every good mans childe!
This must not stir you Cozen.
Wife.
Heaven forbid?
Long.
Sweet Maria, provide the cushion ready for it.
Mar.
It shall be done.
Du.
Receive all your advices from our selfe,
Be once a day with us, and so farewell
For this time, my faire Cozen; Gentlemen
Conduct him to his lodging.
Duch.
Farewell, and think upon my words.
Wife.
I shall observe them.
Exit Duke and Duchesse.
Cous.
Health, and the Kings continuall love attend you.
Ser.
O for a private place to ease my lungs!
Heaven give me patience, such a paire of Jades
Were never better ridden to this houre,
Pray heaven they hold out to the journeys end.
Long.
Twitch him aside good Monsieur, whilst I breake
Upon the body of his strength, his wife,
I have a constant promise: she is my own.
Ser.
Ply her to wind-ward Monsieur, you have taken
The most compendious way to raise your selfe,
That could have been delivered by a councell.
Cous.
I have some certaine aimes Sir: but my wife—
Ser.
Your wife? you must not let that trouble you.
Cous.
It will Sir, to see her in a strangers armes.
Ser.
What mean you? let her alone, be wise, stir not a foot
For if you do, all your hopes are buryed:
I sweare you are a lost man if you stir.
Cous.
I thanke you Sir, I will be more advis'd.
Ser.
But what great Office do you levell at?
Cous.
Sir, they are kissing.
Ser.
Let them kisse,
And much may do their good hearts; they must kisse
And kisse, and double kisse, and kisse againe,
Or you may kisse the post for any rising:
Had your noble Kinsman ever mounted
To these high Spheres of honour, now he moves in,
But for the kisses of his wife?
Cous.
I Know not.
Ser.
Then I doe; credite me, he had been lost,
A fellow of no mark, and no repute,
Had not his wife kist soone, and very sweetly
She was an excellent woman, and dispatcht him
To his full, being in a moment Sir—
Exit Long. & Wife.
Cous.
But yet me thinks he should not take her Sir
Into a private roome.
Ser.
Now stand and flourish,
You are a made man for ever.
I doe envy you if you stand your fortunes up,
You are the happiest man: but your great Cozen
This day in Court: well I will marry surely,
And not let every man out-run me thus.
42
In towne here, and direct the readiest way,
To other men, and be a slave my selfe.
Co.
Nay good Sir be not mov'd, I am your servant,
And will not be ungratefull for this knowledge.
Ser.
Will you be walking home?
Co.
I would desire to have my wife a long.
Ser.
You are too raw,
Be gon and take no notice where you left her,
Let her returne at leisure, if the stay
A moneth 'twill be the better, understand me
This Gentleman can doe't.
(Exit Cozen.
Co.
I will Sir, & wife remember me a Duke, a Duke wife.
Ser.
Aboard her Longaveile shee's thine owne,
To me the fooling of this foole, is venerie.
Exit Servant.
Enter Bewford and Jaques.
Bew.
Come, preethe come, have I not crownes? behold
And follow me, here; not a word, go in
Grope by the walls, and you shall finde a bed,
Lye downe there, see, see, a turne or two to give
My blood some heate; and I am presently
For action, darknesse by thy leave I come.
Exit Bew.
Enter Maria.
Ma.
I am perfect in my lesson, be my speed,
Thou God of marriage, this is the doore, I'le knock.
Bew.
within.
Whose there? I cannot come yet.
Ma.
Mounsier Bewford?
Bew.
Stay 'till I light a candle, who are ye?
Mar.
Sir? a poore Gentlewoman.
Enter Bewford.
Bew.
O come in, I'le finde a time for you too, be not loude.
Mar.
Sir you have found that time already, shame
On my soule therefore.
Bew.
Why? what's the matter?
Mar.
Do you not see Sir, is your light so dim?
Bew.
Do you not waite on the Lady Mount Marine?
Mar.
I do Sir, but my love on you.
Bew.
Poore soule! how cam'st thou by this big belly?
Mar.
By your selfe.
Bew.
By heaven I ne're toucht your body.
Mar.
Yes, unswear that oath agen, I'le tell you all;
These two yeares I have lov'd you, but the meanes
How to enjoy you, I did never know
Till twelfe night last, when hearing of your game
To take up wenches private in the night,
I apprehended straight this course to make
My selfe as one of them, and waite your coming;
I did so, and enjoyed you, and now this child
That now is quicke within me: hide my shame,
And marry me: or else I must be forc't—
Long.
within.
Monsieur Bewford, Monsieur Bewford.
Bew.
Whose that calls?
Long.
Are you a bed?
Bew.
No Sir, the hangings.
Enter Long.
Long.
Nay Mounsieur, I'le forbid that, we'le have faire play
Lend me your candle, are you taken Bewford?
A lecher of your practice, and close carriage
To be discovered thus? I am a sham'd
So great a Master in his art should faile,
And stagger in his grounds.
Bew.
Your wide,
This woman and my selfe are man and wife,
And have been so this halfe yeare,
Where are you now? have I been discovered?
You cannot breake so easily on me Sir,
I am to wary to be opend by you.
Long.
But these are but illusions to give couler
To your most misticke leacherie, but Sir
The belly hath betray'd you all, it must out.
Bew.
Good Longavile believe me on my faith,
I am her husband.
Long.
On my faith I cannot unlesse I saw
Your hands fall and your heartes.
Bew.
Why Longavile when did I give that to your eares
That was not truth? by all the world she's mine,
She is my wife and to confirme you better
I give my selfe againe, here take my hand
And I yours, we are once more married,
Will this content you?
Long.
Yes, I am believing, and God give you joy.
Bew.
My loving wife I will not wrong thee,
Since I am thine and only loved of thee
From this houre I, vow my selfe a new man,
Be not jealous: for though I had a purpose,
To have spent an hower or two in solace otherwise,
And was provided for it, yet my love
Shall put a better temper to my blood,
Come out thou woman of unholsome life,
Be sorry for thy sinnes, and learne to mend,
Nay never hide your face, you shall be seene.
Long.
Jaques, why Jaques, art thou that Jaques,
The very staffe, and right hand of our Duke?
Speake, thou bearded Venus.
Ja.
I am he, by miracle preserv'd to be that Jaques,
Within this two houres Gentlemen, poore Jaques
Was but as coarse in grave: a man of wisedome,
That of my conscience if he had his right
Should have a pretty state, but that's all one
That noble Gentleman did save this life,
I keepe it for him, 'tis his owne.
Long.
Oh Bachus! is all the world drunke? come wee'le to the Duke
And give thankes for this delivery.
| The Noble Gentleman | |