 | The Tragedy of Thierry and Theodoret |  |
Actus Quintus.
Scæna Prima.
Enter Devitry and four Soldiers.Devi.
No War, no Money, no Master; banish'd the
Court, not trusted in the City, whipt out of
the Countrey, in what a triangle runs our misery? let me
hear which of you has the best voice to beg in, for other
hopes or fortunes I see you have not; be not nice, nature
provided you with tones for the purpose, the peoples charity
was your heritage, and I would see which of you deserves
his birth-right.
Omnes.
We understand you not Captain.
Devit.
You see this cardicue, the last, and the only quintessence
of 50 Crowns, distill'd in the limbeck of your gardage,
of which happy piece thou shalt be treasurer: now he
that can soonest perswade him to part with't, enjoyes it,
possesses it, and with it, me and my future countenance.
1.
If they want Art to perswade it, I'll keep it my self.
Devit.
So you be not a partial judge in your own cause, you shall.
Omnes.
A match.
2.
I'll begin to you, brave Sir; be proud to make him
happy by your liberality, whose tongue vouchsafes now
to petition, was never heard before less than to command.
I am a Soldier by profession, a Gentleman by birth, and an
Officer by place, whose poverty blushes to be the cause, that
so high a virtue should descend to the pity of your charity.
1.
In any case keep your high stile, it is not charity to
shame any man, much less a virtue of your eminence, wherefore
preserve your worth, and I'll preserve my money.
3.
You perswade? you are shallow, give way to merit;
ah by the bread of a good man, thou hast a bonny countenance
and a blith, promising mickle good to a sicker womb,
that has trode a long and a fore ground to meet with friends,
that will owe much to thy reverence, when they shall hear
of thy courtesie to their wandring countreyman.
1.
You that will use your friends so hardly to bring them
in debt, Sir, will deserve worse of a stranger, wherefore
pead on, pead on, I say.
4.
It is the Welch must do't I see, comrade man of urship,
St. Tavy be her Patron, the gods of the mountains
keep her cow and her cupboard; may she never want the
green of the Leek, and the fat of the Onion, if she part
with her bounties to him, that is a great deal away from
her cozines, and has two big suits in law to recover her
heritage.
1.
Pardon me Sir, I will have nothing to do with your
suits, it comes within the statute of maintenance: home
to your cozines, and some garlick and hempseed, the one
will stop your hunger; the other end your suits, gammawash
comrade, gammawash.
4.
'Foot he'll hoord all for himself.
Vitry.
Yes, let him; now comes my turn, I'll see if he
can answer me: save you Sir, they say, you have that I
want, Money.
1.
And that you are like to want, for ought I perceive
yet.
Vitry.
Stand; deliver.
1.
'Foot what mean you, you will not rob the Exchequer?
Vit.
Do you prate?
1.
Hold, hold, here Captain.
2.
Why I could have done this before you?
3.
And I.
4.
And I.
Vit.
You have done this, brave man be proud to make him
happy, by the bread of God man, thou hast a bonny countenance,
comrade man of urship, St. Tavy be her patron,
out upon you, you uncurried colts, walking cans that have
no souls in you, but a little Rosin to keep your ribs sweet,
and hold in liquor.
Omnes.
Why, what would you have us to do Captain?
Devit.
Beg, beg, and keep Constables waking, wear out
stocks and whipcord, maunder for butter-milk, dye of the
Jaundice, yet have the cure about you, Lice, large Lice, begot
of your own dust, and the heat of the Brick-kills, may
you starve, and fear of the gallows, which is a gentle consumption
to't, only preferr it, or may you fall upon your
fear, and be hanged for selling those purses to keep you
from famine, whose monies my valour empties, and be
cast without other evidence; here is my Fort, my Castle
of defence, who comes by shall pay me toll, the first purse
is your mitimus-slaves.
2.
The purse, 'foot we'll share in the money Captain, if
any come within a furlong of our fingers.
4.
Did you doubt but we could steal as well as your self,
did not I speak Welsh?
3.
We are thieves from our cradles, and will dye so.
Vit.
Then you will not beg again.
Omnes.
Yes, as you did, stand, and deliver.
Hark, here comes handsel, 'tis a Trade quickly set
up, and as soon cast down.
Vitry.
Have goodness in your minds varlets, and to't like
men; he that has more money than we, cannot be our friend,
and I hope there is no law for spoiling the enemy.
3.
You need not instruct us farther, your example pleads
enough.
Devitry.
Disperse your selves, and as their company is,
fall on.
2.
Come, there are a band of 'em, I'll charge single.
Enter Protaldye.
Exit Soldier.
Prot.
'Tis wonderful dark, I have lost my man, and dare
not call for him, lest I should have more followers than I
would pay wages to; what throws am I in, in this travel?
these be honourable adventures; had I that honest blood in
my veins again Queen, that your feats and these frights have
drain'd from me, honor should pull hard, e'r it drew me into
these brakes.
Devitry.
Who goes there?
Prot.
Hey ho, here's a pang of preferment.
Devi.
'Heart, who goes there?
Prot.
He that has no heart to your acquaintance, what
shall I do with my Jewels and my Letter, my codpiece
that's too loose; good, my boots, who is't that spoke to
me? here's a friend.
Devit.
We shall find that presently, stand, as you love
your safety, stand.
Prot.
That unlucky word of standing, has brought me to
all this, hold, or I shall never stand you.
Devit.
I should know that voice, deliver.
Enter Soldiers.
Prot.
All that I have is at your service Gentlemen, and
much good may it do you.
Devit.
Zones down with him, do you prate?
Prot.
Keep your first word as you are Gentlemen, and
let me stand, alas, what do you mean?
2.
To tye you to us Sir, bind you in the knot of friendship.
Prot.
Alas Sir, all the physick in Europe cannot bind me.
Devit.
You should have jewels about you, stones, precious
stones.
1.
Captain away, there's company within hearing, if you
stay longer, we are surpriz'd.
Devit.
Let the Devil come, I'll pillage this Fregat a little
better yet.
2.
'Foot we are lost, they are upon us.
Devit.
Ha, upon us, make the least noise, 'tis thy parting
gaspe.
3.
Which way shall we make Sir?
Devit.
Every man his own; do you hear, only bind me,
bind me before you goe, and when the company's past,
make to this place again, this karvel should have better
lading in him, you are slow, why do you not tye harder?
1.
You are sure enough I warrant you Sir.
Devit.
Darkness befriend you, away.
Exit Soldiers.
Prot.
What tyrants have I met with, they leave me alone
in the dark, yet would not have me cry. I shall grow wondrous
melancholly if I stay long here without company; I
was wont to get a nap with saying my prayers, I'll see if
they will work upon me now; but then, if I should talk in
my sleep, and they hear me, they would make a Recorder
of my windpipe, slit my throat: heaven be prais'd, I hear
some noise, it may be new purchase, and then I shall have
fellows.
Devit.
They are gone past hearing, now to taske Devitry,
help, help, as you are men help; some charitable hand, relieve
a poor distressed miserable wretch, thieves, wicked
thieves have robb'd me, bound me.
Prot.
'Foot, would they had gagg'd, you too, your noise
will betray us, and fetch them again.
Devit.
What blessed tongue spake to me, where, where
where are you Sir?
Prot.
A plague of your bawling throat, we are well enough
if you have the grace to be thankful for't, do but snore to me,
and 'tis as much as I desire, to pass away time with, till morning,
then talk as loud as you please Sir, I am bound not to
stir, therefore lie still and snore I say.
Devit.
Then you have met with thieves too I see.
Prot.
And desire to meet with no more of them.
Devit.
Alas, what can we suffer more? they are far
enough by this time; have they not all, all that we have Sir?
Prot.
No by my faith have they not Sir, I gave them one
trick to boot for their learning, my Boots Sir, my Boots, I
have sav'd my stock, and my jewels in them, and therefore
desire to hear no more of them.
Devit.
Now blessing on your wit, Sir, what a dull slave
was I? dreamt not of your conveyance, help to unbind me
Sir, and I'll undoe you, my life for yours, no worse thief than
my self meets you again this night.
Prot.
Reach me thy hands,
Devit.
Here Sir, here, I could beat my brains out, that
could not think of boots, boots Sir, wide topt boots, I shall
love them the better whilst I live; but are you sure your
Jewels are here Sir?
Prot.
Sure sayst thou? ha, ha, ha.
Devit,
So ho, illo ho.
Within Soldiers.
Here Captain. here.
Prot.
'Foot what do you mean Sir?
Enter Soldiers.
Devit.
A trick to boot, say you; here you dull slaves,
purchase, purchase the soul of the Rock, Diamonds, sparkling
Diamonds.
Prot.
I'm betraid, lost, past recovery, lost, as you are men
Devit.
Nay rook, since you will be prating, we'll snare your
carrion with you, have you any other conveyance now Sir?
1.
'Foot here are Letters, Epistles, familiar Epistle, we'll
see what treasure is in them, they are seal'd sure.
Prot.
Gentlemen, as you are Gentlemen spare my Letters,
and take all willingly, all: I'll give you a release, a general
release, and meet you here to morrow with as much more.
Devit.
Nay, since you have your tricks, and your conveyances,
we will not leave a wrinkle of you unsearcht.
Prot.
Hark, there comes company, you will be betraid,
as you love your safeties, beat out my brains, I shall betray
you else.
Devit.
Treason, unheard of Treason, monstrous, monstrous
villanies.
Prot.
I confess my self a Traitor, shew your selves good
subjects, and hang me up for't.
1.
If it be treason, the discovery will get our pardon,
Captain.
Devit.
Would we were all lost, hang'd, quarter'd, to save
this one, one innocent Prince; Thierry's poison'd, by his
mother poison'd, the Mistriss to this stallion, who by that
poison ne'er shall sleep again.
2.
'Foot let us mince him by piece-meals, till he eat himself
up.
3.
Let us dig out his heart with needles, and half broil
him, like a Mussel.
Prot.
Such another and I prevent you, my bloud's setled
already.
Devit.
Here's that shall remove it, toad, viper, drag him
unto Martel, unnatural paricide, cruel, bloudy woman.
Omnes.
On you dogfish, leech, caterpillar.
Devit.
A longer sight of him will make my rage turn pity,
and with his suddain end, prevent revenge and torture, wicked,
wicked Brunhalt.
Exit.
Enter Bawdber and three Courtiers.
1.
Not sleep at all, no means.
2.
No Art can do it.
Bawdb.
I will assure you, he can sleep no more
Than a hooded Hawks, a centinel to him,
Or one of the City Constables are tops.
3.
How came he so?
Bawdb.
They are too wise that dare know,
Something's amiss, heaven help all.
1.
What cure has he?
Bawdb.
Armies of those we call
Physitians, some with glisters,
Some with Lettice-caps, some posset-drinks, some Pills,
Twenty consulting here about a drench,
The bringing in of Leonor the bastard
Son to your murther'd brother, her Physitian
By this time is attacht to that damn'd devil.
Mess.
'Tis like he will be so, for e'er we came
Fearing an equal justice for his mischiefs,
He drencht himself.
Brun.
He did like one of mine then.
Thier.
Must I still see these miseries, no night
To hide me from their horrors, that Protaldy
See justice fall upon.
Brun.
Now I could sleep too.
Enter Ordella.
Mart.
I'll give you yet more Poppy, bring the Lady
And heaven in her embraces; gives him quiet,
Madam, unveil your self.
Ordel.
I do forgive you,
And though you sought my bloud, yet I'll pray for you.
Brun.
Art thou alive?
Mart.
Now could you sleep?
Brun.
For ever.
Mart.
Go carry her without wink of sleep, or quiet,
Where her strong knave Protaldye's broke o'th' wheel,
And let his cries and roars be musick to her,
I mean to waken her.
Thier.
Do her no wrong.
Mart.
Nor right, as you love justice.
Brun.
I will think,
And if there be new curses in old nature,
I have a soul dare send them.
Mart.
Keep her waking.
Exit Brunhalt.
Thier.
What's that appears so sweetly? there's that face.
Mart.
Be moderate, Lady.
Thier.
That Angels face.
Mart.
Goe nearer.
Thier.
Martel. I cannot last long, see the soul,
I see it perfectly of my Ordella,
The heavenly figure of her sweetness there,
Forgive me gods, it comes, Divinest substance,
Kneel, kneel, kneel every one, Saint of thy Sex,
If it be for my cruelty thou comest,
Do ye see her hoe?
Mart.
Yes Sir, and you shall know her.
Thier.
Down, down again, to be reveng'd for bloud,
Sweet Spirit I am ready, she smiles on me,
O blessed sign of Peace.
Mart.
Goe nearer Lady.
Ordel.
I came to make you happy.
Thier,
Hear you that, Sir?
She comes to crown my soul away, get sacrifice
Whilst I with holy Honors.
Mart.
She's alive, Sir.
Thier.
In everlasting life, I know it friend,
Oh happy, happy soul.
Ordel.
Alas, I live Sir,
A mortal woman still.
Thier.
Can spirits weep too?
Mart.
She's no spirit Sir, pray kiss her, Lady,
Be very gentle to him.
Thier.
Stay, she is warm,
And by my life the same lips tell me brightness,
Are you the same Ordella still?
Mart.
The same, Sir.
Whom heavens and my good Angel staid from ruin.
Thier.
Kiss me again.
Ordel.
The same still, still your servant.
Thier.
'Tis she, I know her now Martel; sit down sweet.
Oh blest and happiest woman, a dead slumber
Begins to creep upon me, oh my jewel!
Enter Messenger and Memberge.
Ordel.
Oh sleep my Lord.
Thier.
My joyes are too much for me.
Mess.
Brunhalt impatient of her constraint to see
Protaldye tortur'd, has choak'd her self.
Mart.
No more, her sins go with her.
Thier.
Love, I must die, I faint, close up my glasses.
1 Doct.
The Queen faints too, and deadly.
Thier.
One dying kiss.
Ordel.
My last Sir, and my dearest, and now
Close my eyes too.
Thier.
Thou perfect woman.
Martel, the Kingdom's yours, take Memberge to you,
And keep my line alive; nay, weep not, Lady,
Take me, I go.
Ordel.
Take me too, farewel honour
Die both.
2 Doct.
They are gone for ever.
Mart.
The peace of happy souls go after them,
Bear them to their last beds, whilst I study
A Tomb to speak their loves; whilst old time lasteh
I am your King in sorrows.
Omnes.
We your subjects.
Mart.
Devitry, for your service, be near us,
Whip out these instruments of this mad mother
From Court, and all good people; and because
She was born Noble, let that Title find her
A private grave, but neither tongue nor honor:
And now lead on, they that shall read this story,
Shall find that Virtue lives in Good, not Glory.
Exeunt Omnes.
| The Tragedy of Thierry and Theodoret | |