 | The Wedding |  |
Actus Secundi.
Scena Prima.
Enter Cardona, and Isaac.Car.
To the Taylors man, runne.
Isa.
To the Taylors man,
Why not to his master?
Car.
The Wedding cloathes not brought
Home yet, fie, fie.
Who would trust a womans Taylor, take measure so long
before of a Gentle-woman, and not bring home his commodity,
there's no conscience in't.
Car.
The arrant Shoe-maker too.
Isa.
Master Hide, is not he, come yet, I cald vppon him yester-day,
to make hast of my Mistresses shoes, and he told me,
he was about the vpper-leather, he would be at her heeles presently,
I left his foot in the stirrop, I thought he would haue rid
post after me.
Car.
Prethee Isaac make hast, how tedious th'art, hast not
thou beene there yet.
Isa.
Oh yes, and here agen, de'e not see me, you are so light
your selfe.
Car.
As thou goest, call vpon Cod the Perfumer, tell him he
vses vs sweetly, has not brought home the gloues yet.—and
dost heare? when th'art at the Peacocke remember to call for the
sprig, by the same token I left my fanne to be mended:—and
dost heare? when th'art there, tis but a little out of the way, to
runne to the Diuell, and bid the Vintener make hast with the runlets
of Claret, we shall ha no time to burne it.
Isa.
You need not if it come from the Diuell, me-thinkes that
Wine should burne it selfe.
Car.
Runne I prethee.
Isa.
Taylors, Shoe-makers, Perfumers, Feather-makers, and
the Diuell and all, what a many occupations does a woman runne
through, before she is married.
Exit.
Car.
Fye vpon't what a perplexity is about a Wedding, I might
haue beene thus troubled for a child of my owne, if good lucke
had seru'd.
—Within. Cardona.
Car.
I come Lady-bird.
Exit.
Enter Beauford and Marwood.
Mar.
Was this your purpose.
Bea.
This place of all the Park affords most priuacy.
A Roman Amphitheater.
Mar.
We must be the sword-players.
Bea.
Draw, imagine all
These trees were Cypresse, the companions of
Our funerall, for one or both must go
To a darke habitation, me-thinkes
We two, are like to some vnguided men,
That hauing wandred all the day in a
Wild vnknowne path, at night walke downe into
A hollow grot, a caue which neuer Starre
Durst looke into, made in contempt of light
By nature, which the Moone did neuer yet
Be-friend with any melancholy beame:
Oh Cosen thou hast led me, where I neuer
Shall see day more.
Mar.
This is the way to make it
A night indeede, but if you recollect
Your selfe, I brought you beames to let you see
The horror of that darknesse you are going to,
By marrying with Gratiana.
Bea.
That name
Awakes my resolution, consume not
Thy breath too idly, th'ast but a small time
For th'use on't, eyther employ it in the vnsaying
Thy wrong to Gratiana, or thou hastens
Thy last minute.
Mar.
I must tell Beauford then,
He is vngratefull to returne so ill
My friendship, haue I vnder-valued
My shame in the relation of a truth,
To make the man I woo'd preserue, my enemy:
Why dost thou tempt thy destiny with so
Much sinne? dost thinke I were a sword I dare
Not manage? or that I can be inforc'd
Againe I must confirme Gratianaes honour
Stain'd, the treasures of her chastity
Rifled, and lost, twas my vnhappinesse
To haue added that, vnto my other sinnes
Ith'wildnesse of my blood, which thou mayst punish.
Bea.
Thou hast repeated, but the same in
Substance touching Gratiana.
Mar.
Truth is euer constant
Remaines vpon her square, firme, and vnshaken.
Beau.
If what thou hast affirm'd be true, why should
We fight, be cruell to our selues, indanger
Our eternity, for the errour of
One frayle woman? let our swords expect
A nobler cause. What man hath such assurance
In any womans faith, that he should runne
A desperate hazard of his soule? I know
Women are not borne angels, but created
With passion and temper like to vs,
And men are apt to erre, and loose themselues
Caught with the smile of wanton beauty, fetterd
Euen with their mistresses haire.
Mar.
I like this well.
aside.
Beau.
He has a handsome presence and discourse,
Two subtle charmes to tempt a womans frailty,
Who must be gouern'd by their eye or eare
To loue, beside my kinsman hath beene taxt,
For being too prompt in wantonnesse, this confirmes it
Then farwell woman kind.
Mar.
This does become you.
Bea.
Why should we fight, our letting blood wo'not
Cure her, and make her honour white agen:
We are friends, repent thy sinne, and marry her.
Mar.
Whom?
Beau.
Gratiana.
How sir, marry her?
Bea.
Why canst thou adde to it another crime,
By a refusing to repayre the ruines
Of that chast temple, thou hadst violated?
Her Virgin tapers are by thee extinct,
No odour of her chastity, which once
Gaue a perfume to Heauen, and did refresh
Her innocent soule, they that haue spoyld virginity,
Do halfe restore the treasures they tooke thence
By sacred marriage.
Mar.
Marriage, with whom?
Bea.
Gratiana.
Mar.
Should I marry a whore?
Bea.
Thou lyest, and with a guilt vpon thy soule,
Able to sinke thee to damnation,
drawes againe.
Ile send thee hence; a whore? what woman
Was euer bad enough to deserue that name?
Salute some natiue fury, or a wretch
Condemn'd already to hells tortures by it,
Not Gratiana; th'ast awakned iustice,
And giuen it eyes to see thy treachery,
The depth of thy malicious heart, that word, hath
Dis-inchanted me.
Mar.
Are you serious?
Bea.
How haue I sin'd in my credulity
'Gainst vertue, all this while? what charme bound vp
My vnderstanding part, I should admit
A possibility, for her to carry
So blacke a soule; though all her sexe beside
Had fallen from their creation? thou hast
Not life enough to forfeit, what an aduantage
To fame and goodnesse had beene lost.
Mar.
Will you fight?
Beau.
Wert thou defenc'd with circular fire, more
Subtle then the lightning, that I knew would rauish
Neglect the danger, and but singly arm'd,
Flye to reuenge thy calumny: a whore—come on sir.
Th'art wounded: ha?
Fight.
Mar.
Mortally, flye Beauford, saue thy selfe, I hasten to the dead.
Beau.
Oh stay a while, or thou wilt loose vs both,
Thy wound I cannot call backe, now there is
No dallying with heauen, but thou pulst on thee
Double confusion, leaue a truth behind thee,
As thou wouldst hope rest to thy parting soule,
Hast thou not wrong'd Gratiana?
Mar.
Yes, in my lust, but not in my report,
Take my last breath, I sinfully enioy'd her,
One hollows within.
Gratiana is a blotted peece of alablaster:
Farewell least some betray thee, heauen forgiue
My offence, as I do freely pardon thine.
Beau.
I cannot long suruiue,—
Is there no hope thou maist recouer?
Mar.
Oh!
Beau.
Farewell for euer then, with thy short breath
May all thy ills conclude, mine but beginne
To muster, life and I shall quickly part,
I feele a sorrow will breake Beaufords heart.
Exit.
Enter Keeper and Seruant.
Ser.
There are Cony-stealers abroad sir.
Keeper.
These whorson Rabbet suckers
Will nere leaue the ground.
Ser.
In my walke last night, I frighted some on em,
Fox a these vermin, would they were all destroy'd.
Keeper.
So we may chance to keepe no Deere.
Ser.
Why so?
Kee.
An old Cony stops a knaues mouth somtimes.
That else would be gaping for Venison.
Mar.
Oh.
Keeper.
Whose that?
Here's a Gentle-man wounded.
Keeper.
Ha?
Seruant.
He has bled much.
Keeper.
How came you hurt sir? no,
Not speake? if he be not past hope, let vs
Carry him to my lodge, my wife is a
Peece of a Surgeon, has beene fortunate
In some cures: teare a peece of thy shirt Raph,
To bind his wound quickly:—so, so, alas
Poore Gentle-man, he may liue to be drest, and tell
Who has done this mis-fortune: gently
Exe. carry him in.
Honest Raph. he has some breath yet:
Would I had my blood-hound here.
Enter Sir Iohn Belfare Iustice Landby, and his daughter Iane, Isaac waiting.
Bel.
Y'are welcome Mr Landby, and mistresse Iane.
Where's the young Captayn sir your Nephew?
Iust.
He went betimes to waite vpon the Bridgroome.
Bel.
They are inseperable friends, as they had
Diuided hearts, they both are glad, when eyther
Meere a good fortune.
Iane.
Ile be bold to see your daughter.
Bel.
Do mistresse Iane, she has
Her maides blush yet, she'le make you amends for this,
And ere't be long I hope' dance at your wedding.
Exit Iane.
Iust.
I wish you many ioyes sir by this marriage:
Your daughter has made discreet election,
She'le haue a hopefull Gentle-man.
Bel.
Master Landby,
It would refresh my age to see her fruitful to him,
I should finde a blessing for a young
Beauford, and be glad to dandle him, the
First newes of a boy borne by my daughter
Would set me backe seauen yeares: O Master Landby,
Their children bring em babies.
Enter Mr. Rawbone, and Hauer as his seruant.
Isa.
Master Rawbone, ile be bold to present you
With a peece of Rose-mary, we ha such cheere.
Raw.
Honest Isaac.
Isa.
Pray do you belong to Master Rawbone?
Hau.
Yes sir.
Isa.
You haue eate something in your dayes.
Hau.
Why prethee?
Isa.
Nothing, nothing,
D'ee vnderstand nothing, you shall eate nothing:
Vnlesse some Benefactors like my master,
In pitty of your bellies once a yeare
Do warme it with a dinner, you must neuer
Hope to see rost, or sod; he has within
This twelue month to my knowledge
Made seauen men immortall.
Hau.
How?
Isa.
Yes, he has made spirits on em,
And they haunt such mens houses as my masters,
Spirits ath'buttery, let me counsell yee
To cram your corpes to day, for by his Almanacke
There's a long Lent a comming.
Bel.
Neuer see me,
But when you are inuited.
Raw.
'Las I had
Rather eate a peece of cold Capon at home,
Then be troublesome abroad. I hope forsooth
Mistresse Iane is as she shud be.
Iust.
She is in health:
Bel.
Y'aue a fresh seruant master Rawbone,
A proper fellow, and maintaines himselfe
Hansomely.
Raw.
And he wod not ha maintain'd
Isa.
Where's Cameleon?
Raw.
I ha preferr'd him Isaac.
Isa.
How?
Raw.
Turnd him away last night,
And tooke this stripling.
Enter Captaine.
Cap.
Morrow sir Iohn, where is the early Bridegroom?
Iust.
Came not you from him?
Bel.
We expect him sir, euery minute.
Cap.
Not yet come? his seruants' told me
He went abroad before the morning blusht.
Rel.
We ha not seene him, pray heauen
He be in health.
Cap.
I wonder at his absence.
Raw.
Captayne Landby, young man of war, I do
Salute thee with a broad-side.
Cap.
D'ee heare, they
Say you come a woing to my Cosen,
That day you marry her, ile cut your throate,
Keep't to your selfe.
Hau.
Thou art a noble fellow; things may prosper.
Cap.
You come hither to wish, Cod giue em ioy, now.
Raw.
Yes marry do I.
Cap.
You do lye, you come to
Scoure your durty maw with the good cheere,
Which will be dam'd in your leane Barathrum,
That kitchin-stuffe deuourer.
Raw.
Why shud you
Say so Captaine? my belly did nere thinke
You any harme.
Cap.
When it does vomit vp thy heart
Ile prayse it, in the meane time would
Euery bit thou eatst to day, were steept
In Aqua fortis.
What is that Iasper?
Hau.
It is strong-water.
Raw.
Noble Captayne, thankes yfaith hartily:
I was afraid you had beene angry.
Cap.
Ile ha thee sow'd vp in a
Mony-bagge, and boyld to ielly.
Raw.
You shall ha me at your seruice,
And my bags too, vpon good security:
Is not this better then quarrelling, Iasper,—
Enter Cardona.
Car.
Is not the Bride-groome come yet, sure he has ouer slept
himselfe, there is nothing but wondring within, all the maydes are
in vprore, one sayes he is a slow thing, another sayes, she knowes
not what to say, but they all conclude, if euer they marry, they'le
make it in their bargaine to be sure of all things before matrimony,
fie vpon him, if I were to be his wife, i'de shew him a tricke for't, ere
a yeare came about, or it should cost me a fall, I warrant him.
Exit.
Iust.
Sir Iohn y'are troubled.
Bel.
Can you blame me sir:
I would not haue our mornings expectation
Frustrate—I know not what to thinke.
Iust.
Sir, feare not.
Bel.
The morne growes old.
Iust.
Himen has long tapers.
Bel.
What should procure his absence; he departed
But odly yester-day.
Cap.
Marwood had engag'd him,
They promis'd to returne.
Bel.
But we see neither.
Iust.
They'le come together, make it not your feare,
Beaufords a Gentle-man, and cannot be
Guilty of doing such affront, vnlesse
Some mis-fortune—
That's another iealousie.
Enter Lodam, Cameleon waiting vpon him.
Lod.
Where is Sir Iohn Belfare?
Bel.
Ha? Master Lodam,
Welcome.
Lod.
I congratulate.—
Bel.
Saw you master Beauford sir.
Lod.
Yes I saw him, but—
Iust.
But what?
Lod.
I know not how he does,
Where is the Lady that must be vndone to night,
Your daughter?
Bel.
My daughter vndone, name what vnhappines,
My heart already doth beginne to prophesie
Her vnkind fate, name what disaster, giue it
Expression pray, what is the newes?
Lod.
The newes?
Why wo'd yee know the newes? tis none a'th'best.
Iust.
Be temperate then in your relation.
Bel.
What ist?
Lod.
They say for certayne,
There were foure and twenty Colliers cast away,
Comming from New-Castle tis cold newes ith'Citty,
But there is worse newes abroad.
Bel.
Doth it concerne my knowledge? trifle not.
Lod.
They say that Canary sacke, must dance
Agen to the Apothecaries, and be sold for
Physicke, in hum-glasses, and thimbles that the
Spaw-water must be transported hither, and
Be drunke insteed of French wines:
For my part, I am but one.
Hau.
Big enough for two.
Lod.
This citadell may endure as long a siege
As another, if the pride of my flesh must be
Puld downe, farewell it t'has done me
Bel.
Saw you master Beauford?
Lod.
Yes Sir Iohn,
I saw him but—twas three dayes agoe.
Cap.
Hee is ridiculous.
Iust.
Doe not afflict your selfe,
He will giue a faire account at his returne.
Bel.
Pray heauen hee may:
Enter Gratiana, Iane, and Cardona.
My daughter.
Raw.
Sir, I desire to be acquainted with you.
Lod.
I haue no stomacke sir to your acquaintance,
You are a thought too leane.
Raw.
And you a bit too fat.
Bel.
Dost not wonder girle at Beaufords absence?
Grati.
Not at all sir, I am not now to learne
Opinion of his noblenesse; and I hope
Your iudgements will not permit you sinne so much
To censure him for this stay. Faire morning
To master Landby, noble Captaine, master
Lodam, and the rest.
Raw.
I am so little
She cannot see me, giue you ioy forsooth,
I hope it is your destiny to be married.
Cap.
And yours to bee hang'd.
Raw.
How sir.
Hau.
No harme,
He wishes you long life.
Raw.
A long halter he does,
What to bee hang'd.
Hau.
Las sir he knows you ha no flesh to burden you,
Light at a feather, hanging will nere kill you,
If he had wish'd sir master Lodam hang'd.
Raw.
Then, ile to him and thanke him;
But here's mistresse Iane.
You shal command me as your seruant.—sirra.
Exit. As he goes out he sees Rawb. court Iane.
Raw.
I did but aske her how she did, I sayd
Neuer a word to her: Pox vpon his bounsing
I am as fearefull of him as of a Gun,
He does so powder me.
Grati.
We haue not seene
You sir, this great while, you fall away me-thinkes.
Lod.
Loosing Lodam I.
Grati.
You are not the least welcome sir.
Lod.
I do giue you great thankes, and do meane to dance at your
Wedding for't, I doe maruaile Master Beauford is not earlier, I
shud ha beene here with musique Lady, and haue fidled you too,
before you were vp, these leane Louers, ha nothing in em, slow
men of London.
Bel.
Gratiana.
Lod spies Iane.
Lod.
Who's this? shee has a mortall eye.
Isa.
Cameleon? How now turn'd away your master.
Cam.
No, I sold my place; as I was thinking to runne away,
comes this fellow, and offered me a breake-fast for my good will
to speake to my Master for him, I tooke him at his word, and resigned
my Office, and turn'd ouer my hunger to him immediately,
now I serue a man, Isaac.
Bel.
Isaac.—
Exit Isaac as sent off.
Lod.
I do fore-see a fall of this tower already,
Loue beginnes to vnder-mine it.
Mistresse, a word in priuate.
Raw.
Iasper has't a sword.
Hau.
Yes sir.
Raw.
That's well, let it alone:
Didst see this paunch affront me?
Hau.
He did it in loue to the Gentle-woman.
Raw.
In loue? let me see the sword agen.
Drawes.
Wo'd twere in his belly—put it vp,
Thou deserust a good blade, tis so well kept.
Enter Isaac.
Isa.
Master Beauford, master Beauford.
Where?
Isa.
Hard by, within a stones cast a my
Mistresse, here sir here.
Enter Beauford.
Grat.
My deerest Beauford, where hast bin so long?
Bea.
Oh Gratiana.
Grat.
Are you not in health?
Bel.
Not well, tis then no time to chide:
How fare you sir?
Bea.
I haue a trouble at my heart: pardon
The trespasse o'your patience Gentle-men,
Ile publish the occasion of my absence,
So first, you giue me leaue, to vnlade it here;
But with your fauour, I desire I may
Exempt all eares, but Gratianaes, till
A short time ripen it for your knowledge.
Bel.
Ha?
Iust.
Lets leaue 'em then a while.
Bel.
Into the Garden Gentle-men.
Raw.
Withall my heart:
In my conscience the'ile be honest together.
Bel.
This begets my wonder, master Lodam.
Lod.
Good sir Iohn, ile waite vpon you,
It is dinner time.
Exeunt.
Bea.
I haue not time to dwell on circumstance,
I come to take my last leaue, you and I
Must neuer meete agen.
Grat.
What language do I heare,
If Beaufords it should strike me dead?
Bea.
This day, I had design'd for marriage, but I must
Pronounce wee are eternally diuorc'd:
Oh Gratiana, thou hast made a wound
Beyond the cure of Surgery, why did nature
Empty her treasure in thy face, and leaue thee
A blacke prodigious soule?
Grat.
Defend me goodnesse!
Call vpon darknesse, to obscure thee rather,
That neuer more thou maist be seene by mortall,
Get thee some dwelling in a mist, or in
A wild forsaken earth, a Wildernesse,
Where thou maist hide thy selfe, and dye forgotten.
Grat.
Where was I lost? name what offence prouok'd
This heauy doome, deare Beauford, be not so
Iniust, to sentence me, before I know
What is my crime, or if you will not tell
What sinne it is, I haue committed, great,
And horrid, as your anger; let me study,
Ile count em all before you, neuer did
Penitent, in confession, strip the soule
More naked, ile vnclaspe my booke of conscience,
You shall read ore my heart, and if you finde
In that great Volume, but one single thought
Which concern'd you, and did not end with some
Good prayer for you: Oh be iust and kill me.
Bea.
Be iust, and tell thy conscience, th'ast abus'd it
False woman, why dost thou increase thy horror?
By the obscuring a mis-deed, which wo'd
Were all thy other sinnes forgiuen, vndo thee
Oh Gratiana, thou art.—
Grat.
What am I?
Bea.
A thing I would not name, it sound so fearfully,
'Twould make a Diuell blush, to be saluted
By that, which thou must answere to.
Grat.
I feare—
Bea.
That feare betrayes thy guilt, tell me Gratiana
What didst thou see in me to make thee thinke
I was not worthy of thee, at thy best
And richest value, when thou wert as white
In soule, as beauty? for sure, once thou wert so:
Hadst thou so cheape opinion of my birth,
My breeding, or my fortunes, that none else
Grat.
Deare Beauford heare me.
Bea.
A common father to thy sinne-got issue,
A patron of thy rifled, vnchast wombe?
Oh thou wert cruell, to reward so ill
The heart that truely honor'd thee: thy name
Which sweetn'd once the breath of him that spake it,
And musically charm'd the gentle eare;
Shall sound here-after like a Screech-owles note,
And fright the hearer; Virgins shall lament
That thou hast sham'd their chast society,
And oft as Himen lights his tapers vp,
At the remembrance of thy name, shed teares,
And blush for thy dishonour: from this minute,
Thy friends shall count thee desperately sicke,
And whensoere thou goest abroad, that day
The maides and matrons, thinking thou art dead,
And going to the graue, shall all come forth
And waite like mourners on thee.
Grat.
Ha yee done?
Then heare me a few sillables, you haue
Suspition that I am dishonourd.
Bea.
No,
By heauen I haue not, I haue too much knowledge
To suspect thee sinnefull, but in the assurance
Of it, I must disclayme thy heart for euer:
Gratiana my opinion of thy whitenesse
Hath made my soule, as blacke as thine already;
Weepe till thou wash away thy staine, and then,
Ith'other world, we two, may meete agen.
Exit.
Grat.
Weepe inward eyes, hither your streames impart,
For sure, I haue teares enough, to drowne my heart.
Exit.
| The Wedding | |