 | The Knight of Malta |  |
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Miranda, Norandine, and Collonna.Col.
Here sir, I have got the Key, I borrowd it
Of him that keeps the Church, the door is open.
Mir.
Look to the horses then, and please the fellow.
After a few devotions, i'le retire.
Be not far off, there may be some use of ye,
Give me the light: come friend, a few good prayers
Were not bestowd in vaine now, even from you sir.
Men that are bred in blood, have no way left 'em,
No bath, no purge, no time to weare it out
Or wash it off, but penitence, and prayer:
I am to take the order, and my youth
Loaden I must confesse with many follies,
Circled and bound about with sins as many
As in the house of memory live figures.
My heart i'le open now, my faults confesse,
And rise a new man, heaven I hope, to a new life.
Nor.
I have no great devotion, at this instant,
But for a prayer or two, I will not out sir,
Hold up your finger, when you have praid enough.
Mir.
Go you to that end.
Nor.
I shall ne'r pray alone sure,
I have bin so us'd to answer the Clerk: would I had a
cushion, for I shall ne'r make a good Hermit, and kneel
till my knees are horn, these stones are plaguy hard
where shal I begin now? for if I do not observe a method,
I shall be out presently.
Ori.
Oh, oh.
Nor.
Whats that sir? did ye heare?
Mir.
Ha; to your prayers.
Nor.
'Twas here abouts, t'has put me clean awry now,
I shall ne'r get in again, ha, by Land,
And water, all children, and all women,
I there it was I left.
Ori.
Oh, oh.
Nor.
Never tell me sir,
Here's something got amongst us.
Mir.
I heard a groane:
A dismall one,—
Ori.
Oh, Oh.
Nor.
Here, tis here sir, 'tis here sir;
A devill in the wall.
Mir.
Tis some illusion
To fright us from devotion—
Ori.
Oh, oh.
Nor.
Why tis here,
The spirit of a huntesman choakd with butter,
Her's a new tomb, new trickments too.
Mir.
For certaine,
This has not bin three dayes here.
Nor.
And a Tablet
With rimes upon't.
Mir.
I prethee read 'em Norandine.
Nor.
An Epi—and Epi—taff. I think 'tis, I 'tis taff, an Epitaff.
Upon the most excell, excell—lent—and.
Mir.
Thou canst not read.
Nor.
I have spoild mine eyes with gunpowder,
Mir.
An Epitaph upon the most vertuous, and excellent Lady
The honor of Chastity, Oriana.
Nor.
The grand masters sister: how a devil came she here?
When slipt she out oth' way, the stone's but half upon her.
Mir.
Tis is a sodain chang: certain the mischiefe
Mountferrat offerd to her broak her heart-strings.
Nor.
Would he were here, I would be the clerk my self,
89
Her's no lamenting now.
Ori.
Oh, oh.
Nor.
There tis.
Mir.
Sure from the monument, the very stone groanes for her.
Oh, deer Lady: blessing of women, vertue of thy sex;
How art thou set for ever, how stolne from us.
Babling, and prating now converse with women.
Nor.
Sir it rises, it looks up.
She rises up.
Mir.
Heaven blesse us.
Nor.
It is in womans cloathes, it rises higher.
Mir.
It looks about, and wonders, sure she lives sir.
Tis she, tis Oriana, tis that Lady.
Nor.
Shall I go to her?
Ori.
Where am I!
Mir.
Stand still.
Ori.
What place is this?
Nor.
She is as live as I am.
Ori.
What smell of earth, and rotten bones, what dark place.
Lord, whether am I carried?
Nor.
How she stares,
And sets her eyes upon him.
Mir.
How is't deer Lady?
Do you know me, how she shakes?
Ori.
You are a man.
Mir.
A man that honours you.
Ori.
A cruell man,
Ye are all cruell: are you in your grave too?
For ther's no trusting cruell man, above ground.
Nor.
Byr' Lady, that goes hard.
Mir.
To do your service
And to restore ye to the joyes you were in.
Ori.
I was in joyes indeed, and hope—
Mir.
She sincks againe
Again she is gon; she is gon: gon as a shadow,
She sinks for ever, friend.
Nor.
She is cold now,
She is certainly departed, I must cry too.
Mir.
The blessed angels guide thee: put the stone too,
Beauty thou art gon to dust, goodnesse to ashes.
Nor.
Pray take it well: we must all have our houres sir.
Mir.
I, thus we are; and all our painted glory,
A buble that a boy blowes in toth' ayre,
And there it breaks.
Nor.
I am glad ye sav'd her honour yet.
Mir.
Would I had sav'd her life now too: oh heaven
For such a blessing, such a timely blessing
O friend, what deer content 'twould be, what story
To keep my name from wormes?
Oria.
Oh, oh.
Nor.
She lives again,
'Twas but a trance.
Mir.
Pray ye call my man in presently
Help with the stone first, oh she stirs againe.
Oh call my man away.
Nor.
I fly, I fly sir.
Mir.
Upon my knees O heaven, O heaven I thank thee.
The living heat steales into every member;
En. Colonn. & Norand.
Come help the Coffin out, softly, and sodainly
VVhere is the Clerk?
Col.
Drunk above, he is sure sir.
Mir.
Sirah, you must be secret.
Col.
As your soule sir.
Mir.
Softly good friend, take her into your armes.
Nor.
Put in the crust againe.
Mir.
And bring her out there when I am a horseback
My man, and I will tenderly conduct her
Unto the Fort; stay you, and watch what issue,
And what inquirie's for the body.
Nor.
Well sir.
Mir.
And when ye have done, come back to me.
Nor.
I will.
Mir.
Softly, oh softly.
Nor.
She growes warmer still sir.
Col.
What shall I do with' Key?
Mir.
Thou canst not stir now,
Leave it ith' door: go get the horses ready.
Exeunt
Roc.
The door's already open, the Key in it.
En. Rocca Mountferrat Abdella. With a dark lanthorn.
Mount.
What were those past by?
Roc.
Some scout of Souldiers, I think.
Mount.
It may be well so, for I saw their horses,
They saw not us I hope.
Abd.
No, no, we were close,
Beside they were far off.
Mount.
What time of night is't?
Abd.
Much about twelve I think.
Roc.
Let me go in first
For by the leaving open of the door here
There may be some body in the Church: give me the Lanthorne.
Abd.
You'l love me now I hope.
Mount.
Make that good to me
Your promise is engaged for.
Abd.
Why she is there
Ready prepar'd, and much about this time
Life will look up again.
Roc.
Come in all's sure,
Not a foot stirring, nor a tongue.
Mount.
Heaven blesse me,
I never enter'd with such unholy thoughts
This place before.
Abd.
Ye are a fearfull foole,
If men have appetites allow'd 'em,
And warm desires, are there not ends too for 'em?
Mount.
Whether shall we carry her?
Roc.
Why, to the bark sir,
I have provided one already waites us
The wind stands wondrous fair too for our passage.
Abd.
And there, when ye' have enjoyd her, for ye have that liberty
Let me alone to send her to feed fishes,
I'le no more sighes for her.
Mount.
Where is the monument?
Thou art sure she will awake about this time?
Abd.
Most sure, If she be not knockt oth' head: give me the Lanthorn,
Here 'tis, how is this, the stone off?
Roc.
I, and nothing
Within the monument, that's worse, no body
I am sure of that, nor signe of any here,
But an empty Coffin.
Mount.
No Lady.
Roc.
No, nor Lord sir,
This Pye has bin cut up before.
Abd.
Either the Devill
Must doe these tricks—
Mount.
Or thou, damn'd one, worse;
Thou black swoln pitchie cloud, of all my afflictions:
Thou night hag, gotten when the bright Moone sufferd
Thou hell it self confin'd in flesh: what trick now?
Tell me, and tell me quickly what thy mischief
Has done with her, and to what end, and whether
Thou hast remov'd her body, or by this holy place
This sword shall cut thee into thousand peeces
A thousand thousand, strow thee ore the Temple
A sacrifice to thy black sire, the Devill.
Rod.
Tell him, you see he's angry.
Abd.
Let him burst,
Neither his sword, not anger do I shake at,
Nor will yeild to feed his poor suspicions,
His idle jealouzies, and madde dogs heares
One thought against my self: ye have done a brave deed
90
When ye have kill'd me; reckon't amongst your Battels:
I am sorry ye are so poore, so weake a gentleman
Able to stand no fortune: I dispose of her?
My mischiefe make her away? a likely project,
I must play booty against my selfe, if any thing crosse ye
I am the devill, and the devils heire,
All plagues, all mischiefes.
Mount.
Will ye leave and doe yet?
Ab.
I have done too much,
Far, far too much for such a thanklesse fellow,
If I be devill, you created me,
I never knew those arts, nor bloody practises
(—o' your cunning heart, that mine of mischiefe)
Before your flatteries won 'em into me,
Here did I leave her, leave her with that certainty
About this houre to wake again.
Mount.
Where is she?
This is the last demand.
Ab.
Did I now know it,
And were I sure, this were my latest minute
I would not tell thee: strike, and then i'le curse thee:
Rocca.
I see a light, stand close, and leave your angers.
We all miscarry else.
Enter Gomera, Page with Torch.
Ab.
I am now carelesse,
Mount.
Peace, prethee peace, sweet, peace, all friends,
Ab.
Stand close then.
Gom.
Waite there Boy, with the light, till I call to thee,
In darknesse was my soule and sences clouded
When my faire Jewell fell, the night of jealousie,
In all her blacknesse drawn about my judgement:
No light was let into me: to distinguish
Betwixt my suddain anger and her honour,
A blinde sad Pilgrimage shall be my pennance,
No comfort of the day will I looke up at:
Far darker then my jealous Ignorance
Each place of my aboad shall be my: prayers
No ceremonious lights shall set off more;
Bright Armes, and all that carry lustre, life,
Society, and sollace, I forsake ye.
And were it not once more to see her beauties
(For in her bed of death, she must be sweet still,)
And on her cold sad lips seal my repentance;
Thou child of heaven, faire light I could not misse thee.
Mount.
I know the tongue, would I were out againe
I have done him too much wrong to looke upon him.
Ab.
There is no shifting now, boldnesse, and confidence
Must carry it now away: he is but one neither,
Naked as you are, of a strength far under
Mount.
But he has a cause above me,
Ab.
That's as you handle it.
Roc.
Peace: he may goe againe, and never see us.
Gom.
I feele I weepe apace, but where's the flood,
The torrent of my teares, to drown my fault in,
I would I could now like a loaden cloud
Begotten in the moyst south, drop to nothing
Give me the Torch, Boy.
Roc.
Now he must discover us.
Ab.
He has already, never hide your head
Be bold, and brave, if we must dye together.
Gom:
Who's there? what friend to sorrow? The Tombe wide open
The Stone off too? the body gone, by—
Looke to the doore Boy: keep it fast, who are ye?
What sacrilegious villaines? false Mountferrat,
The wolfe to honour, h'as thy hellish hunger,
Brought thee to tear the body out oth' tomb too?
Has thy foule mind so far wrought on thee? ha,
Are you there too? nay, then I spie a villany
I never dream't of yet, thou sinfull usher
Bred from that rottennesse, thou bawd to mischiefe,
Doe you blush through all your blacknesse? will not that hide it?
Ab.
I cannot speake.
Gom.
You are well met, with your dam, sir,
Art thou a Knight? did ever on that sword,
The Christian cause sit nobly? could that hand fight,
Guided by fame, and fortune? that heart inflame thee,
With vertuous fires of valour, to fall off,
Fall off so suddainly, and with such foulenesse,
As the false Angels did, from all their glory?
Thou art no Knight, honour thou never heard'st of,
Nor brave desires could ever build in that breast,
Treason, and tainted thoughts, are all the Gods
Thou worship'st, all the strength thou hadst: and fortune;
Thou didst things out of feare, and false heart, villaine
Out of close traps and treacheries, they have rais'd thee.
Mount.
Thou rav'st old man.
Gom.
Before thou get'st off from me,
Had'st thou the glory of thy first fights on thee
Which thou hast basely lost, thy noblest fortunes,
And in their greatest lustres, I would make thee
Before we part, confesse, nay, kneele, and doe it,
Nay, crying kneele, coldly for mercy, crying:
Thou art the recreant'st Rogue, time ever nourish'd,
Thou art a dogge, I will make thee sweare, a dog stav'd,
A mangy Cur-dogge; doe you creep behind the Altar?
Looke how it sweats, to shelter such a rascall;
First, with thy venemous tooth infect her chaste life,
And then not dare to doe; next, rob her rest,
Steale her dead body out oth' grave.
Mount.
I have not.
Gom.
Prethee come out, this is no place to quarrell in,
Valiant Mountferrat come,
Mount.
I will not stir.
Gom.
Thou hast thy sword about thee,
That good sword, that never fail'd thee: prethee come,
We'l have but five stroakes for it, on, on Boy,
Here's one would faine be acquainted with thee,
Would wondrous fain cleave that Calves-head of yours sir,
Come, prethee let's dispatch, the Moone shines finely:
Prethee be kill'd by me, thou wilt be hang'd else,
But it may be, thou long'st to be hang'd.
Roc.
Out with him, Sir,
You shall have my sword too: when he's dispatch'd once
We have the world before us.
Gom.
Wilt thou walke fellow,
I never knew a Rogue, hang arse-ward so,
And such a desperate knave too.
Ab.
Pray goe with him,
Something I'le promise too,
Mount.
You would be kill'd then?
No remedy; I see,
Gom.
If thou dar'st doe it?
Mount.
Yes, now I dare; lead out, i'le follow presently
Vnder the Mount i'le meet ye.
Gom.
Goe before me,
Ile have ye in a string too.
Mount.
As I am a Gentleman,
And by this holy place, I will not faile thee,
Feare not, thou shalt be kill'd, take my word for it
I will not faile.
Gom.
If thou seap'st thou hast Cats luck,
The Mount?
Mount.
The same: make haste, I am there before else.
Gom.
Goe get ye home; now if he scape I am Cowar'd.
Mount.
Well, now I am resolv'd, and he shall finde it.
Exeunt.
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