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Scæna Prima.
Enter Duchesse, Syenna, and Lords,Sy.
Lady, the stubborn war's more milde then you are,
That allowes Ransome, and the Prisoner taken—
Duch.
We must not be too hasty: Remember Sir,
The wrong and violence you have offer'd us,
Burnt up our Frontire Townes, made prey before ye
Both of our Beasts, and Corne; slaine our deare Subjects,
Open'd the fountaine eyes of thousand widowes,
That daily fling their curses on your fury;
What ordinary satisfaction can salve this?
What hasty thought-on Ransome give a remedy?
You must excuse us yet, we'l take more counsell;
In the meane time, not as a Prisoner,
But as a noble Prince we entertaine ye.
Sy.
I am at your mercy Lady, 'tis my fortune,
My stubborne fate; the day is yours, you have me,
The valour of one single man has cross'd me,
Crost me and all my hope; for when the Battels
Were at the hottest game of all their furies,
And conquest ready then to crowne me Victor,
One single man broke in, one sword, one vertue,
And by his great example thousands followed,
O how I shame to think on't, how it shakes me!
Nor could our strongest head then stop his fury,
But like a tempest 'bore the field before him,
Till he arriv'd at me, with me he buckell'd,
A while I held him play; at length his violence
Beat me from my Saddle, then on foot pursu'd me,
There triumph'd once againe, then tooke me Prisoner:
When I was gone a feare possest my people.
Duch.
One single arme, in a just cause, heaven prospers.
Is not this stranger Knight as yet discover'd,
That we may give his vertue a due honour?
Lord.
Not yet that we hear Madam, but to that purpose,
Two dayes ago we publish'd Proclamations
Enter Soto with a Trumpet, and Silvio.
Soto.
O dainty Duchesse, here I bring that Knight
Before thy fragrant face, that warlike wight,
He that Syenna's Duke, and all his Louts
Beat (as the Proverb seemly sayes) to clouts:
He that unhorss'd the man of fame to boot,
And bootlesse taught his Grace to walk afoot:
He that your writings (pack'd to every pillar)
Promis'd promotion to, and store of filler,
That very man I set before thy Grace,
And once againe pronounce this man it was.
Duch.
A pretty foolish Squire, what must the Knight be?
Sy.
Some Jugler, or some Mad-man.
Sil.
I was not so,
When thy faint Troopes in flockes I beat before me,
When through the thickest of thy warlike horse
I shot my selfe, even to thy Standard Duke,
And there found thee, there singled thee, there shew'd thee
The temper of my Sword. 'Tis true, thou stood'st me,
And like a noble Souldier bid'st me welcome;
And this ile say, More honour in that arme
I found and tryed, then all thy Army carried:
What followes thy Imprisonment can tell thee.
Sy.
His faire relation carries truth and vertue,
And by those Armes I see (for such were his,
So old, so rusty) this may be he that forc'd me.
Sil.
Do you know this Jewell, from your Cask I rent it,
Even as I clos'd, and forced ye from your saddle;
Do you now remember me?
Sy.
This is the valour
Madam, for certaine he, it must be he,
That day I wore this Jewell, you remember it.
Duch.
Yes, very well; not long before I sent it.
Sy.
That day I lost this Jewell, in fight I lost it,
I felt his stroakes, and felt him take it from me,
I wore it in my Cask; take it againe Sir,
You won it nobly, 'tis the prize of honour.
Soto.
My Father, and my selfe are made for ever.
Duc.
Kneele down brave Sir, thus my Knight first I raise ye,
Gird on a Sword; next Generall of my Army,
Give him a Staffe; last, one in Counsell neare me.
Now, make us happy with your sight: how? Silvio?
Have I on thee bestow'd this love, this honour?
The Treasons thou hast wrought set off with favours?
Unarme him presently: O thou foule Traitor,
Traitor to me, mine honour, and my Country,
Thou kindler of these Warres.
Sil.
Mistake not Madam.
Duch.
Away with him to prison,
See him safe kept, the Law shall shortly Sirra,
Finde fitter titles for ye, then I gave ye.
Soto.
This is the youth that kild me, ile be quit with him,
What a blinde rogue was I, I could never know him?
And't please your Grace, I claime the benefit
Of the Proclamation that proclaim'd him Traitor,
I brought him in.
Duch.
Thou shalt have thy reward for't.
Soto.
Let him be hang'd, or drown'd then.
Duch.
Away with him.
Sil.
Madam, I crave your promise first; you are tyed to it,
You have past your Princely word.
Duch.
Prove it, and take it.
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This is the day appointed,
Appointed by your Grace for my appearance,
To answer to the Question.
Duch.
I remember it.
Sil.
I claime it then,
Duch.
If you performe it not,
The penalty you claime too.
Sil.
I not repent it;
If I absolve the words?
Duch.
Your life is free then,
You have drawne a speedy course above my wishes,
To my rezenge, be sure ye hit it right,
Or ile be sure you shall not scape the danger.
Sil.
My rest is up now Madam.
Duch.
Then play it cunningly.
Sil.
Now, where's the Hag? where now are all her promises,
She would be with me, strengthen me, informe me?
My death will now be double death, ridiculous:
She was wont still to be neare, to feele my miseries,
And with her Art, I see her no where now;
What have I undertaken? now she failes me,
No comfort now I finde, how my soule staggers?
Till this houre never fear, nor doubt possest me,
She cannot come, she will not come, she has fool'd me;
Sure, she is the Devill, has drawne me on to ruine,
And now to death bequeaths me in my danger.
Sy.
He stands distracted, and his colour changes.
Duch.
I have given him that will make his blood forsake him;
Shortly his life.
Sy.
His hands and contemplation
Have motion still, the rest is earth already.
Duc.
Come, will ye speak or pray? your time growes out Sir;
How every where he looks? he's at last cast.
Enter Belvidere, and secretly gives him a paper, and Exit.
Sy.
His colour comes againe fresh.
Duc.
'Tis a flash, Sir,
Before the flame burnes out; can ye yet answer?
Sil.
Yes Madam, now I can.
Duch.
I feare you'l faile in't.
Sil.
And do not think my silence a presage,
Or Omen to my end, you shall not finde it;
I am bred a Souldier, not an Orator,
Madam, peruse this scrowle, let that speake for me,
And as you are Royall, wrong not the construction.
Duch.
By Heaven you shall have faire play.
Sil.
I shall looke for't.
Question.
Tell me what is that onely thing,For which all women long;
Yet having what they most desire,
To have it do's them wrong.
Answer.
Tis not to be chaste, nor faire,Such gifts malice may impaire;
Richly trim'd, to walke or ride,
Or to wanton unespi'd;
To preserve an honest name,
And so to give it up to fame;
These are toyes. In good or ill
They desire, to have their will;
Yet when they have it, they abuse it,
For they know not how to use it.
You have answer'd right, and gain'd your life,
I give it.
Sil.
O happy Hag! But my most gracious Madam,
Your promise tide a nobler favour to me.
Duch.
'Tis true, my daughter too.
Sil.
I hope you will keep it.
Duc.
'Tis not in my powre now, she is long since wanderd,
Stolne from the Court, and me; and what I have not
I cannot give: no man can tell me of her,
Nor no search finde her out: and if not Silvio,
Which strongly I beleeve—
Sil.
Mock me not Lady,
For as I am a servant to her vertue,
Since my first howre of exile, I ne're saw her
Lord.
That she is gone 'tis too too true, and lamentable,
Our last hope was in you.
Sil.
What do I heare then,
And wherefore have I life bestow'd and honour?
To what end do I walk? for men to wonder at,
And fight, and foole? pray ye take your honours from me,
(My sorrowes are not fit companions for 'em)
And when ye please my life: Art thou gone Mistris,
And wander'st heaven knowes where? this vow I make thee,
That till I finde thee out, and see those faire eyes,
Those eyes that shed their lights, and life into me,
Never to know a friend, to seeke a kindred,
To rest where pleasure dwells, and painted glory,
But through the world, the wide world thus to wander,
The wretched world alone, no comfort with me,
But the meere meditations of thy goodnesse:
Honour and greatnesse, thus adieu.
Enter Belvidere.
Bel.
Stay Silvio,
And Lady sit againe, I come for Justice.
Sil.
What would she now?
Bel.
To claime thy promise Silvio,
The Boone thou swor'st to give me.
Sy.
What may this be,
A woman, or a Devill?
Duch.
'Tis a Witch sure,
And by her meanes he came to untwist this Riddle,
Sil.
That I am bound to her for my liffe, mine honour,
And many other thousand waies for comfort
I here confesse: Confesse a promise too,
That what she would aske me to requite these favours,
Within the endeavour of my life to grant,
I would; and here I stand my words full master.
Bel.
I wish no more: great Lady, witnesse with me,
The Boone I crave for all my service to thee,
Is now to be thy wife, to grant me marriage.
Sil.
How? for to marry thee? aske againe woman,
Thou wilfull woman, aske againe.
Bel.
No more Sir.
Sil.
Aske land, and life.
Bel.
I aske thee for a Husband.
Soto.
Marry her, and beat her into Gun-powder,
She would make rare Crackers.
Sil.
Aske a better fortune,
Thou art too old to marry: I a Souldier,
And alwaies married to my sword.
Bel.
Thy word Foole,
Breake that, and ile breake all thy fortunes yet.
Duch.
He shall not,
I am witnesse to his faith: and ile compell it.
Sy.
'Tis fit ye hold your word, Sir.
Sil.
O most wretched.
Duch.
This was a fortune now beyond my wishes,
For now my Daughter's free, if e're I finde her.
Sy.
But not from me.
Duch.
You are sharer in this happinesse,
My selfe will wait upon this marriage,
And do the old woman all the honour possible.
Sy.
Ile lead the Knight, and what there wants in dalliance,
44
Sil.
O wretched Silvio.
Exeunt.
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