 | The Broken Heart |  |
Actus Secundus
Sæna prima.
Enter Bassanes and Phulas.Bass.
I'le haue that window next the street dam'd vp;
It giues too full a prospect to temptation,
And courts a Gazers glances: there's a lust
Committed by the eye, that sweats, and trauels,
Plots, wakes, contriues, till the deformed bear-whelpe
Adultery be lick'd into the act,
The very act; that light shall be dam'd vp;
D'ee heare sir?
Phul.
I doe heare my Lord; a Mason
Shall be prouided suddenly.
Bass.
Some Rogue,
Some Rogue of your confederacy, (factor
For slaues and strumpets) to conuey close packets
From this spruce springall, and the tother youngster;
That gawdy Eare-wrig, or my Lord, your Patron,
Whose pensioner you are.—I'le teare thy throat out
Thy vlterous maw, if I but scent a paper,
A scroll, but halfe as big as what can couer
A wart vpon thy nose, a spot, a pimple,
Directed to my Lady: it may proue
A mysticall preparatiue to lewdnesse.
Phul.
Care shall be had.—I will turne euery thread
About me to an eye.—here's a sweet life.
Bass.
The City houswiues, cunning in the traffique
Of Chamber-merchandise, set all at price
By whole-sale, yet they wipe their mouthes, and simper,
Cull, kisse, and cry Sweet-hart, and stroake the head
Which they haue branch'd, and all is well againe:
Dull clods of dirt, who dare not feele the rubs
Stucke on the fore-heads?
Phul.
'Tis a villanous world,
One cannot hold his owne in't.
Bass.
Dames at Court
Who flaunt in riots, runne another by as:
Their pleasure heaues the patient Asse that suffers
Vp on the stilts of Office, titles, Incomes;
Promotion iustifies the shame, and sues for't:
Poore Honour! thou art stab'd, and bleed'st to death
By such vnlawfull hire. The Country mistresse
Is yet more wary, and in blushes hides
What euer trespasse drawes her troth to guilt;
But all are false. On this truth I am bold,
No woman but can fall, and doth, or would—
Now for the newest newes about the Citie;
What blab the voyces sirrhe?
Phul.
O my Lord,
The rarest, quaintest, strangest, tickling newes
That euer—
Bass.
Hey da, vp and ride me Rascall,
What is't?
Phul.
Forsooth (they say) the King has mew'd
All his gray beard, in stead of which is budded
Another of a pure Carnation colour,
Speckled with Greene and Russet.
Bass.
Ignorant blocke.
Phul.
Yes truly, and 'tis talkt about the streets,
That since Lord Ithocles came home, the Lyons
Neuer left roaring, at which noyse the Beares
Bass.
Dance out thine too.
Phul.
Besides, Lord Orgilus is fled to Athens
Vpon a fiery Dragon, and 'tis thought
A' neuer can returne.
Bass.
Grant it Apollo.
Phul.
Moreouer, please your Lordship, 'tis reported
For certaine, that who euer is found iealous
Without apparant proofe that's wife is wanton,
Shall be diuorc'd: but this is but she-newes,
I had it from a midwife. I haue more yet.
Bass.
Anticke, no more; Ideots and stupid fooles
Grate my calamities. Why to be faire
Should yeeld presumption of a faulty soule?
Looke to the doores.
Phul.
The horne of plenty crost him.
Exit Phul.
Bass.
Swormes of confusion huddle in my thoughts
In rare distemper. Beauty? ô it is
An vnmatcht blessing, or a horrid curse.
Enter Penthea, and Gransis an old Lady.
Shee comes, she comes, so shoots the morning forth,
Spangled with pearles of transparent dew;
The way to pouerty is to be rich;
As I in her am wealthy, but for her
In all contents a Bankrupt.—Lou'd Penthea,
How fares my hearts best ioy?
Gran.
In sooth not well,
She is so ouer-sad.
Bass.
Leaue chattering Mag-pye.—
Thy brother is return'd (sweet) safe, and honour'd
With a Triumphant victory: thou shalt visit him:
We will to Court, where, if it be thy pleasure,
Thou shalt appeare in such a rauishing lustre
Of Iewels aboue value, that the Dames
Who braue it there, in rage to be out-shin'd,
Shall hide them in their Closets, and unseene
Fret in their teares; whiles euery wondring eye
Shall craue none other brightnesse but thy presence.
Choose thine owne recreations, be a Queene
Of what delights thou fanciest best, what company,
What place, what times, doe any thing, doe all things
From the pure firmament of thy faire lookes.
Gran.
Now 'tis well said my Lord, what Lady? laugh,
Be merry, time is precious.
Bass.
Furies whip thee.
Pen.
Alas my Lord, this language to your Hand-maid
Sounds as would musicke to the deafe: I need
No braueries nor cost of Art, to draw
The whitenesse of my name into offence;
Let such (if any such there are) who couet
A curiosity of admiration,
By laying out their plenty to full view,
Appeare in gawdy out-sides; my attires
Shall suit the inward fashion of my minde;
From which, if your opinion nobly plac'd,
Change not the Liuory your words bestow,
My Fortunes with my hopes are at the highest.
Bass.
This house me thinkes stands somewhat too much inward;
It is too melancholy, wee'll remoue
Nearer the Court; or what thinks my Penthea
Of the delightfull Island we command?
Rule me as thou canst wish.
Pen.
I am no Mistresse;
Whither you please, I must attend; all wayes
Are alike pleasant to me.
Gran.
Island? prison:
A prison is as gaysome: wee'll no Islands:
Marry out vpon 'em, whom shall we see there?
Sea-guls, and Porpiseis, and water-rats,
And Crabs, and Mewes, and Dogfish? goodly geere
For a young Ladies dealing, or an old ones.
On no termes Islands, I'le be stew'd first.
Bass.
Gransis,
You are a Iugling Bawd.—This sadnesse (sweetest)
Becomes not youthfull blood,—(I'le haue you pounded)
For my sake put on a more chearefull mirth,
Thou't marre thy cheekes, and make me old in griefes.
—(Damnable Bitch-foxe.)
Gran.
I am thicke of hearing
Still when the wind blowes Southerly. What thinke 'co,
If your fresh Lady breed young bones (my Lord?)
Wood not a chopping boy d'ee good at heart?
Or chop thee into collops.
Gran.
Pray speake louder,
Sure, sure, the wind blowes South still.
Pen.
Thou prat'st madly.
Bass.
'Tis very hot; I swear extreamely.—Now.
Enter Phulas.
Phul.
A heard of Lords, Sir.
Bass.
Ha?
Phul.
A flock of Ladies.
Bass.
Where?
Phul.
Shoalds of horses.
Bass.
Peasant, how?
Phul.
Caroches
In drifts—th'one enter, th'other stand without, sir.
And now I vanish.
Exit Phulus.
Enter Prophilus, Hemophil, Groneas, Christalla and Philena.
Proph.
Noble Bassanes.
Bass.
Most welcome Prophilus, Ladies, Gentlemen,
To all, my heart is open, you all honour me.
(A tympany swers in my head a ready)
Honour me bountifully.—(How they flutter,
Wagtailes and Iayes together?)
Proph.
From your brother,
By virtue of your loue to him, I require
Your instant presence fairest.
Pen.
He is well Sir.
Proph.
The gods preserue him eues: yet (deare beauty)
I finde some alteration in him lately,
Since his returne to Sparta. My good Lord,
I pray vse no delay.
Bass.
We had not needed
An inuitation, if his sisters health
Had not fallen into question.—Hast Panthea,
Slacke not a minute: lead the way good Prophilus,
I'le follow step by step.
Proph.
Your arme faire Madam.
Exeunt omnes sed Bass. & Gran.
Bass.
One word with your old Bawdship: th'hadst bin better
Raild at the sinnes thou worshipst, then haue thwarted
My will. I'le vse thee cursedly.
Gran.
You dote,
You are beside your selfe. A Politician
In iealousie? No, y'are too grosse, too vulgar.
Pish, teach not me my trade, I know my cue:
My crossing you, sinks me into her trust,
By which I shall know all: my trade's a sure one.
Bass.
Forgiue me, Gransis, twas consideration
Gran.
Feare not,
I am no new-come-too't.
Bass.
Thy life's vpon it,
And so is mine. My Agonies are infinite.
Exeunt omnes:
Scæne 2.
Enter Ithocles alone.Itho.
Ambition? 'tis of vipers breed, it knawes
A passage through the wombe that gaue it motion.
Ambition? like a feeled Doue, mounts vpward,
Higher and higher still to pearch on clouds,
But tumbles headlong downe with heauier ruine.
So squibs and crackers flye into the ayre,
Then onely breaking with a noyse, they vanish
In stench and smoke: Morality appli'd
To timely practice, keeps the soule in tune,
At whose sweet musicke all our actions dance;
But this is forme of books, and schoole-tradition,
In physicks not the sicknesse of a minde
Broken with griefes: strong Feaures are not eas'd
With counsell, but with best receipts, and meanes:
Meanes, speedy meanes, and certaine; that's the cure.
Enter Armoster and Crotolon.
Armo.
You sticke (Lord Crotolon) vpon a point
Too nice, and too vnnecessary. Prophilus
Is euery way desertfull. I am confident
Your wisdome is too ripe to need instruction
From your sonnes tutillage.
Crot.
Yet not so ripe
(My Lord Armoster) that it dares to dote
Vpon the painted means of smooth perswasion,
Which tempts me to breach of faith.
Itho.
Not yet
Resolu'd (my Lord!) why if your sonnes consent
Be so auaileable, wee'll write to Athens
For his repaire to Sparta. The Kings hand
Will ioyne with our desires, he has beene mou'd too?
Armo.
Yes, and the King himselfe importun'd Crotolon.
For a dispatch.
Crot.
Kings may command, their wils
Itho.
By this marriage
You knit an union so deuout, so hearty,
Betweene your loues to me, and mine to yours,
As if mine owne blood had an interest in it;
For Prophilus is mine, and I am his.
Crot.
My Lord, my Lord.
Ith.
What, good Sir? speak your thoght.
Crot.
Had this sincerity beene reall once,
My Orgilus had not beene now vn-win'd,
Nor your lost Sister buried in a Bride-bed
Your Vnckle here, Armoster knowes this truth,
For had your father Thrasus fin'd, but peace
Dwell in his graue: I haue done.
Armo.
Y'are bold and bitter.
Itho.
'A presses home the iniury, it smarts;
No reprehensions Vncle, I deserue 'em.
Yet gentle Sir, consider what the heat
Of an vnsteady youth a giddy braine,
Greene indiscretion, flattery of greatnesse,
Rawnesse of iudgement, wilfulnesse in folly,
Thoughts vagrant as the wind, and as vncertaine,
Might lead a boy in yeeres too; 'twas a fault,
A Capitall fault, for then I could not diue
Into the secrets of commanding Loue:
Since when, experience by the extremities (in others)
Hath forc'd me to collect. And trust me Crotolon,
I will redeeme those wrongs with any seruice
Your satisfaction can require for currant.
Armo.
Thy acknowledgement is satisfaction.
What would you more?
Crot.
I'me conquer'd: if Euphranea
Her selfe admit the motion, let it be so.
I doubt not my sonnes liking.
Itho.
Vse my fortunes,
Life, power, sword, and heart, all are your owne.
Enter Bassanes, Prophilus, Calantha, Penthea, Euphranea, Chrystalla, Philema, and Gransis.
Armo.
The Princesse with your sister.
Calan.
I present 'ee
A stranger here in Court (my Lord,) for did not
Desire of seeing you, draw her abroad,
We had not beene made happy in her company.
You are a gracious Princesse.—Sister, wedlocke
Holds too seuere a passion in your nature,
Which can engrosse all duty to your husband,
Without attendance on so deare a mistresse.
'Tis not my brothers pleasure, I presume,
T' immure her in a chamber.
Bass.
'Tis her will,
Shee gouernes her owne houres; (noble Ithocles)
We thanke the gods for your successe, and welfare.
Our Lady has of late beene indispos'd,
Else we had waited on you with the first.
Itho.
How does Penthea now?
Pen.
You best know brother,
From whom my health and comforts are deriu'd.
Bass.
I like the answer well; 'tis sad, and modest;
There may be tricks, yet, tricks.—Haue an eye Gransis.
Calan.
Now Crotolon, the suit we ioyn'd in must not
Fall by too long demurre.
Crot.
'Tis granted, Princesse,
For my part.
Armo.
With condition, that his sonne
Fauour the Contract.
Calan.
Such delay is easie.
The ioyes of marriage make thee, Prophilus,
A proud deseruer of Euphrania's loue,
And her of thy desert.
Proph.
Most sweetly gracious.
Bass.
The ioyes of marriage are the heauen on earth,
Life's paradise (great Princesse) the soules quiet,
Sinewes of concord, earthly immortality,
Eternity of pleasures; no restoratiues
Like to a constant woman.—(but where is she?
'Twould puzzle all the gods, but to create
Such a new monster.)—I can speake by proofe,
For I rest in Elizium, 'tis my happinesse.
Crot.
Euphrania how are you resolu'd, (speake freely)
In your affections to this Gentleman?
Euphr:
Nor more, nor lesse then as his loue assures me,
Which (if your liking with my brothers warrants)
I cannot but approue in all points worthy.
Crot.
So, so, I know your answer.
Ith.
'T had bin pitty
To sunder hearts so equally consented.
Enter Hemophill.
The King (Lord Ithocles) commands your presence;
And (fairest Princesse) yours.
Calan.
We will attend him.
Enter Groneas.
Gron.
Where are the Lords? all must vnto the King
Without delay: the Prince of Argos—
Calan.
Well Sir.
Gron.
Is comming to the Court, sweet Lady.
Calan.
How!
The Prince of Argos?
Gron.
'Twas my fortune, Madam,
T' enioy the honour of these happy tidings.
Ith.
Penthea!
Pen.
Brother!
Ith.
Let me an howre hence
Meet you alone, within the Palace groue,
I haue some secret with you.—Prethe friend
Conduct her thither, and haue speciall care
The walks be clear'd of any to disturbe vs.
Proph.
I shall.
Bass.
How's that?
Ith.
Alone, pray be alone.
I am your creature, princesse.—on my Lords.
Exeunt.
Bassanes.
Bass.
Alone, alone? what meanes that word alone?
Why might not I be there?—hum!—hee's her brother;
Brothers and sisters are but flesh and blood,
And this same whorson Court ease is temptation
To a rebellion in the veines:—Besides,
His fine friend Prophilus must be her guardian.
Why may not he dispatch a businesse nimbly
Before the other come?—or—pandring, pandring,
For one another? bee't to sister, mother,
Wife, Couzen, any thing, 'mongst youths of mettall,
Is in request: It is so—stubborne Fate:
But if I be a Cuckold, and can know it,
I will be fell, and fell.
Enter Groneas.
Gron.
My Lord, y'are call'd for.
Bass.
Most hartily I thanke ye, where's my wife pray?
Gron.
Retir'd amongst the Ladies.
Bass.
Still I thanke 'ee:
There's an old waiter with her saw you hot too:
Gron.
She sits i'th presence Lobby fast asleepe Sir.
Bass.
Asleepe? sleepe Sir!
Gran.
Is your Lordship troubled
You will not to the King?
Bass.
Your humblest Vassaile.
Your seruant my good Lord.
Bass.
I wait your footsteps.
Exeunt.
Scæne the third.
Prophilus, Penthea.Proph.
In this walke (Lady) will your brother find you:
And with your fauour, giue me leaue a little
To worke a preparation, in his fashion
I haue obseru'd of late, some kind of slacknesse
To such alacrity as Nature
And custome tooke delight in: Sadnesse growes
Vpon his recreations, which he hoards
In such a willing silence, that to question
The grounds will argue skill in friendship,
And lesse good manners.
Pen.
Sir, I'me not inquisitiue
Of secrecies without an inuitation.
Phoph.
With pardon, Lady, not a sillable
Of mine implyes so rude a sense; the drift.—
Enter Orgilus.
Proph.
Doe thy best
To make this Lady merry for an houre.
Exit.
Org.
Your will shall be a law, Sir.
Pen.
Prethe leaue me,
I haue some priuate thoughts I would account with:
Vse thou thine owne.
Org.
Speake on, faire nimph, our soules
Can dance as well to musicke of the Spheares
As any's who haue feasted with the gods.
Pen.
Your Schoole terms are too troublesome.
Org.
What heauen
Refines mortality from drosse of earth,
But such as vncompounded beauty hallowes
With glorified perfection.
Pen.
Set thy wits
In a lesse wild proportion.
Org.
Time can neuer
On the white table of vnguilty faith
Write counterfeit dishonour; turne those eyes
(The arrowes of pure loue) vpon that sire
Which once rose to a flame, perfum'd with vowes
As sweetly scented as the Incense smoking
The holiest Artars, Virgin teares (like those
And to increase their feruour.
Pen.
Be not franticke.
Org.
All pleasures are but meere imagination,
Feeding the hungry appetite with steame,
And sight of banquet, whilst the body pines,
Not relishing the reall tast of food,
Such is the leannesse of a heart diuided
From entercourse of troth-contracted lones;
No horror should deface that precious figure
Seal'd with the liuely stampe of equall soules.
Pen.
Away, some fury hath bewitch'd thy tongue:
The breath of ignorance that flyes from thence,
Ripens a knowledge in me of afflictions,
Aboue all suffrance.—Thing of talke be gone,
Be gone without reply.
Org.
Be iust, Penthea,
In thy commands: when thou send'st forth a doome
Of banishment, know first on whom it lights;
Thus I take off the shrowd, in which my cares
Are folded vp from view of common eyes;
What is thy sentence next?
Pen.
Rash man, thou layest
A blemish on mine honour with the hazard
Of thy too desperate life: yet I professe,
By all the Lawes of ceremonious wedlocke,
I haue not giuen admittance to one thought
Of female change, since cruelty enforc'd
Diuorce betwixt my body and my heart:
Why would you fall from goodnesse thus?
Org.
O rather
Examine me how I could liue to say
I haue bin much, much wrong'd; 'tis for thy sake
I put on this Imposture; deare Penthea,
If thy soft bosome be not turn'd to marble,
Thou't pitty our calamities; my Interest
Confirmes me thou art mine still.
Pen.
Lend your hand;
With both of mine I claspe it thus, thus kisse it,
Thus kneele before ye.
Org.
You instruct my duty.
Pen.
We may stand vp: Haue you ought else to vrge
Of new demand? as for the old forget it,
And shall be, shall be euer; what more would ye?
Org.
I would possesse my wife, the equity
Of very reason bids me.
Pen.
Is that all?
Org.
Why 'tis the all of me my selfe.
Pen.
Remoue
Your steps some distance from me; at this space
A few words I dare change; but first put on
Your borrowed shape.
Org.
You are obey'd, 'tis done:
Pen.
How (Orgilus) by promise I was thine,
The heauens doe witnesse; they can witnesse too
A rape done on my truth: how I doe loue thee
Yet Orgilus, and yet, must best appeare
In tendering thy freedome; for I find
The constant preseruation of thy merit,
By thy not daring to attempt my fame
With iniury of any loose conceit,
Which might giue deeper wounds to discontents:
Continue this faire race, then though I cannot
Adde to thy comfort, yet I shall more often
Remember from what fortune I am fallen,
And pitty mine owne ruine.—Liue, liue happy,
Happy in thy next choyce, that thou maist people
This barren age with vertues in thy issue:
And ô, when thou art married, thinke on me
With mercy, not contempt: I hope thy wife,
Hearing my story, will not scorne my fall:
Now let vs part.
Org.
Part! yet aduise thee better:
Penthea is the wife to Orgilus,
And euer shall be.
Pen.
Neuer shall nor will.
Org.
How!
Pen.
Heare me, in a word I'le tell thee why:
The Virgin dowry which my birth bestow'd,
Is rauish'd by another: my true loue
Abhorres to thinke, that Orgilus deseru'd
No better fauours then a second bed.
Org.
I must not take this reason.
Pen.
To confirme it,
Should I outliue my bondage, let me meet
Another worse then this, and lesse desir'd,
My lip, or hand againe.
Org.
Penthea, now
I tell 'ee you grow wanton in my sufferance;
Come sweet, th'art mine.
Pen.
Vnciuill Sir, forbeare,
Or I can turne affection into vengeance;
Your reputation (if you value any)
Lyes bleeding at my feet. Vnworthy man,
If euer henceforth thou appeare in language,
Message, or letter to betray my frailty,
I'le call thy former protestations lust,
And curse my Starres for forfeit of my iudgement.
Goe thou, fit onely for disguise and walkes,
To hide thy shame: this once I spare thy life;
I laugh at mine owne confidence; my sorrowes
By thee are made inferiour to my fortunes.
If euer thou didst harbour worthy loue,
Dare not to answer. My good Genius guide me,
That I may neuer see thee more.—Goe from me.
Org.
I'e teare my vaile of politicke French off,
And stand vp like a man resolu'd to doe
Action, not words shall shew me. O Penthea.
Exit Orgilus.
Pen.
'A sigh'd my name sure as he parted from me,
I feare I was too rough: Alas poore Gentleman,
'A look'd not like the ruines of his youth,
But like the ruines of those ruines: Honour,
How much we fight with weaknesse to preserue thee.
Enter Bassanes and Gransis.
Bass.
Fye on thee, damb thee, rotten magot, damb thee,
Sleepe? sleepe at Court? and now? Aches, convulsions,
Impostumes, themes, gouts, palsies clog thy bones
A dozen yeeres more yet.
Gran.
Now y'are in humors.
Bass.
Shee's by her selfe, there's hope of that; shee's sad too,
Shee's in strong contemplation: yes, and fixt,
The signes are wholesome.
Gran.
Very wholsome truly.
Bass.
Hold your chops night mare.—Lady, come your brother
Is carried to his closet; you must thither.
Pen.
Not well, my Lord?
Bass.
A sudden fit, 'twill off;
Pen.
Your newes is none o'th best.
Enter Prophilus.
Proph.
The chiefe of men,
The excellentest Ithocles, desires
Your presence Madam.
Bass.
We are hasting to him.
Pen.
In vaine we labour in this course of life
To piece our iourney out at length, or craue
Respite of breath, our home is in the graue.
Bass.
Perfect Philosophy: then let vs care
To liue so that our reckonings may fall euen
When w' are to make account.
Proph.
He cannot feare
Who builds on noble grounds: sicknesse or paine
Is the deseruers exercise, and such
Your vertuous brother to the world is knowne.
Speake comfort to him Lady, be all gentle;
Starres fall but in the grossenesse of our sight,
A good man dying, th'Earth doth lose a light.
Exeunt omnes.
| The Broken Heart | |