 | The Wedding |  |
Actus Quinti.
Scena Prima.
Enter Sir Iohn Belfare.Bel.
Whether art fled Gratiana? that I can
Conuerse with none to tell mee thou art still
A mortall? taken hence by miracle?
Though angels should intice her hence, to heauen,
She was so full of piety, to her father,
She would first take her leaue.
Enter Isaac and a Physition.
Isa.
There he is sir, he cannot choose but talke idly,
For he has so slept since the last great mist.
Phi.
Mist?
Isa.
I sir, his daughter, my young mistresse went away in't,
and we can heare no tale nor tydings of her, to tell you true, I
would not disgrace my old master, but hee is little better then mad.
Phi.
Vnhappy Gentle-man.
Bel.
Tis so, hee murder'd her;
For he that first would rob her of her honor,
Would not feare after-ward to kill Gratiana,
He shall be arraign'd for't;—but where shall wee
Get honest men enough to make a Iury?
That dare be conscionable, when the Iudge
Lookes on, and frownes vpon the Verdict, men
That will not be corrupted, to fauour
A great mans euidence, but preferre iustice
To ready mony? oh this age is barren—
Master Beauford's newly
Apprehended for some fact, and carried
Fore Iustice Landby, in my passage hither
I met him guarded.
Bel.
Guarded for what?
Phy.
Some did whisper hee had kild—
Bel.
Gratiana.
Oh my girle, my Gratiana,—Isaac, Beauford is taken, tis
apparent he hath slayne my daughter, and shanot I reuenge her
Death? Ile prosecute the Law with violence agaynst him, not
leaue the Iudge, till hee pronounce his sentence, then Ile dye, and
carry Gratiana the newes before him. Follow me—
Exeunt.
Enter Iustice Landby, and Iane.
Iust.
I expect Iane thou wot reward my care
With thy obedience, he's young and Wealthy,
No matter for those idle ceremonies
Of wit and court-ship.
Iane.
Doe I heare my father?
Iust.
He will maintaine thee gallant, City wiues
Are fortunes darlings, gouerne al, their husbands
Variety of pleasure, and apparell
When some of higher titles are oft faine
To pawne a Lady-ship: thou shat haue Rawbone.
Iane.
Vertue forbid it, you are my father sir,
And lower then the earth I haue a heart
Prostrates it selfe, I had my being from you,
But I beseech you, take it not away
Agen, by your seuerity.
Iust.
How's this? I like it well.
aside.
Ian.
You haue read many lectures to me, which
My duty hath receiu'd, and practiz'd, as
Precepts from heauen, but neuer did I heare
You preach so ill, you heretofore directed
Cherish desert, plant my affection on
Noblenesse, which can onely be sufficient
To make it fruitefull, and d'ee counsell now
To marry a disease?
Iust.
Good! my owne girle—
What ist you sayd? ha?
Iane.
For the man himselfe
Is such a poore and miserable thing—
Iust.
But such another word, and I take off
My blessing: how now Iane?
Ian.
Alas, I feare
He is in earnest, marry me to my graue,
To that you shall haue my consent, oh do not
Enforce mee to be guilty of a false
Vow, both to Heauen and Angels; on my knees—
Iust.
Humble your heart, rise and correct your sullennesse,
I am resolu'd, would you be sacrific'd
To an vnthrift, that will once away his skinne,
Rather then want to stake at Ordnaries?
Consume what I haue gather'd at a breake-fast,
Or mornings draught? and when you ha teem'd for him
Turne Semptresse to find milke and clouts for babies:
Foote stockings to maintaine him in the Compter?
Or if this fayle, erect a bandy Citadell,
Well man'd, which fortified with demy-Cannon
Tobacco pipes, may raise you to a fortune,
Together with the trade—
Iane.
Oh my cruell starres!
Iust.
Starre me no starres, ile haue my will—
Ian.
One minute hath ruin'd all my hope, Milisent
Was cruell thus to mocke me.
Enter Captayne, Hauer, Lodam, Rawbone, and Cameleon.
Cap.
Vncle—
Cap. and Iust. whisper.
You heare, how he talkes.
Bel.
But I ha found the way, tis but procuring
Acquaintance with the fore-man of the Iury,
The Sessions bell-weather, he leades the rest
Like sheepe when hee makes a gap, they follow
In huddle to his sentence.
Isa.
Speake to him sir.
Phi.
God saue you sir Iohn Belfare.
Bel.
I am a little serious—do not trouble mee.
Phi.
D'ee not know me?
Bel.
I neyther know, nor care for you, vnlesse
You can bee silent.
Phi.
Ime your neighbour—
Isa.
Master Doctor—
Bel.
Away foole.
Isa.
No sir, a Physition.
Bel.
A Physition? can you cure my daughter?
Phi.
I sir, where is shee?
Bel.
Cannot you find her out by arte? a good
Physition, shud be acquainted with the Starres:
Prethee erect a figure, graue Astronomer,
Sh'at ha the minute she departed; turne
Thy Ephemerides a little, ile lend
Thee Ptolomy, and a nest of learned Rabbies
To iudge by: tell me whither she be a liue,
Or dead, and thou shalt bee my Doctor, ile
Giue thee a round per Annum pension,
And thou shalt kill me for it.
Phi.
He has a strange De lyrium.
Isa.
I sir.
Phi.
A Uertigo in's head.
Isa.
In his head.
Bel.
What sayes the Rauen?
Isa.
He sayes, you haue two hard words in your head sir.
Phi.
Haue you forgot me sir, I was but late
Bel.
Ha' your pardon gentle sir I know you now,
Impute it to my griefe, t'hath almost made mee
Forget my selfe.
Phi.
I come to visite you.
And cannot but bee sorry, to behold
You thus afflicted.
Bel.
Doctor I am sicke,
I'me very sicke at heart: losse of my daughter
I feare, will make me mad, how long d'oe thinke
Mans nature able to resist it, can
Your loue or arte prescribe your friend a Cordial?
No, no, you cannot.
Phi.
Sir, bee comforted,
Wee haue our manly vertue giuen vs,
To exercise in such extreames as these.
Bel.
As these? why do you know what tis to
Loose a daughter? you conuerse with men, that
Are diseas'd in body; punish'd with a gout
Or feauer: yet some of these are held
The shames of physicke, but to th'mind you can
Apply no salutary medicine:
My daughter sir, my daughter—
Phi.
Was too blame
To leaue you so, loose not your wisedome for
Your daughters want of piety.
Bel.
Speake well
A'th dead, for liuing shee would not be absent
Thus from mee, shee was euer dutifull
Tooke pleasure in obedience: oh my child,
But I haue strong suspition, by whom
She's made away. Beauford—
Phi.
How?
Bel.
He that pretended marriage—he gaue her
A wound before.
Iasper? what case am I in?
Hau.
Be wise and keep your counsell, is not all for your honor?
Lod.
Lady, I hope by this time, you are able to distinguish
A difference betweene Rawbone and my selfe.
Cam.
I finde little.
Cap.
You shall doe noble sir.
Iust.
Mr. Rawbone, the onely man in my wishes:
My nephew giues you valiant, your merit
Ore-ioyes me, and to shew how much I value
Your worth my daughter yours, ile see you
Married this morning, ere we part, receiue him
Into your bosome Iane, or loose me euer.
Ian.
I obey sir: will my father cozen himselfe?
Hau.
Ha, doe I dreame?
Raw.
Dreame quotha, this is a pritty dreame.
Iust.
Master Lodam, I hope you'le not repine at his fortune.
Raw.
But Rawbone will pine, and repine if this be not a dreame?
Lod.
I allow it, and will dine with you.
Cam.
And I.
Raw.
Iasper: no, will no body know me?
Iust.
Let's loose no time, I haue no quiet tell
I call him sonne.
Raw.
Master Iustice, do me right,
You do not know who I am—I am—
Iust.
An asse sir, Are you not? what make you pratling?
Raw.
Sir,—
Noble Captaine, a word, I am—
Cap.
A Coxecombe.
Your man is saucy sir.
Raw.
Then I am a—sleepe.
Cap.
I forget Gratiana
Iust.
Cosen, you shall supply my place at Church, while I
prepare for your returne, some guests wee must haue—nay,
nay haste, the morne growes old, wee'le ha't a Wedding day.
Hau.
Here's a blessing beyond hope.
Raw.
Sure I am a sleepe, I will cene walke with'em till my
dreame be out.
Iust.
Mr. Beauford, welcome and Gratiana—
Beau.
You will repent your curtesie, I am
Presented an offender to you.
Offi.
Yes, and please your worship, he is accus'd.
Iust.
How?
Grat.
Sir, you haue charity, beleeue em not,
They doe conspire to take away his life.
Keeper.
May it please you vnderstand, he has kild
A Gentle-man, one Marwood, in our Parke,
I found him wounded mortally, though before
He dyed, he did confesse.
Beau.
Vrge it no farther,
Ile saue the trouble of examination,
And yeeld my selfe vp guilty.
Grat.
For heauens sake
Beleeue him not, hee is an enemy
To his owne life; deare Beauford, what d'ee meane
To cast your selfe away, y'are more vnmercifull
Then those that doe accuse you, then the Law
It selfe, for at the worst, that can but finde
You guilty at the last, too soone for me
To bee deuided from you.
Beau.
Oh Gratiana, I call heauen to witnesse,
Though my mis-fortune made mee thinke before,
My life a tedious and painefull trouble,
My very soule a luggage, and too heauy
For me to carry, now I wish to liue,
To liue for thy sake, till my haire were siluer'd
With age; to liue till thou wodst ha me dye,
And wert a weary of me: For I neuer
Could by the seruice of one life, reward
Enough thy loue, nor by the suffering
The punishment of age and time, do pennance
Sufficient for my iniury, but my fate
Hurries me from thee, then accept my death
A satisfaction for that sinne, I could not
The accusation.
Enter Sir Iohn Belfare, and Isaac.
Bel.
Iustice, iustice, I will haue iustice:
Ha Gratiana!
Grat.
Oh my deare father—
Bel.
Art a liue, oh my ioy, it growes
To mighty for me, I must weepe a little
To saue my heart—
Isa.
My young mistresse aliue.
Exit
Grat.
If euer you lou'd Gratiana, plead for Beauford,
H'as beene abus'd, by a villaine, alls discouer'd,
W'aue renew'd hearts, and now I feare, I shall
Loose him agen, accus'd here for the death
Of Marwood, that was cause of all our suffering.
Bel.
I ha not wept enough for ioy Gratiana
That th'art aliue yet—I vnderstand nothing
Beside this comfort.
Grat.
Deere sir recollect,
And second me.
Iust.
The fact confest, all hope
Wilbe a pardon sir may be procur'd:
Sir Iohn—y'are come in a sad time.
Grat.
What is the worst you charge him with?
Keeper.
He has slaine a Gentle-man.
Iust.
No common trespasse.
Grat.
He has done iustice.
Iust.
How?
Grat.
A publicke benefite to his Country in't.
Iust.
Killing a man? her sorrow ouer-throwes
Her reason.
Grat.
Heare me, Marwood was a Villaine,
A rebell vnto vertue, a prophaner
Of friendships sacred lawes, a murderer
Of virgin chastity, against whose malice
But like a Bird grip'd by an Eagles talent,
It growning dyes.
What punishment can you inflict on him,
That in contempt of nature, and religion,
Inforces breach of loue, of holy vowes?
Sets them at warre, whose hearts were married
In a full congregation of Angels:
I know you will not say, but such deserue
To dye yet Marwood being dead, you reach
Your fury to his heart, that did this benefit.
Beau.
Oh Gratiana if I may not liue
To enioy thee here, I would thou hadst beene dead
Indeede, for in a little time, we shu'd
Ha met each other in a better World;
But since I go before thee, I will carry
Thy playse along, and if my soule forget not,
What it hath lou'd, when it conuerst with men,
I will so talke of thee among the blest,
That they shalbe in loue with thee, and descend
In holy shapes, to woe thee to come thither,
And be of their society doe no veile thy beauty
With such a shower, keepe this soft raine,
To water some more lost, and barren garden,
Least thou destroy the spring, which nature made
To be a wonder in thy cheeke
Iust.
Where is Marwoods body?
Mar.
Here sir.
Omnes.
A liue!
Mil.
Ha Marwood?
Mar.
A liue, as glad to see thee, as thou art
To know thy selfe acquitted or my death;
Which I of purpose by this honest friend,
To whose cure, I owe my life, made you beleeue,
T'increase our ioy at meeting: for you Lady,
Lesse violent in your pleading, do not
Engage me past respects of mine, or your own honor.
Grat.
Mine is aboue thy malice, I haue a breast
Impenetrable, 'gainst which, thou fondly ayming,
Thy arrowes, but recoile into thy bosome,
And leaue a wound.
Beau.
Friend we haue found thy errour—
Mar.
Let it be mine, we haue had stormes already.
Grat.
Tell me iniurious man for in this presence
You must acquit the honour you accus'd,
Discharge thy poyson here, inhumane Traytor—
Beau.
Thou wo't aske her now forgiuenes, she's al chastitie.
Mar.
Why d'ee tempt me thus?
Bel.
It was ill done sir—
Iust.
Accuse her to her face.
Mar.
So so, you see, I am silent still.
Gra.
You are too ful of guilt to excuse your trechery.
Mar.
Then farwell all respects, and heare me tell
This bold and insolent woman, that so late
Made triumph in my death.
Mil.
Oh sir proceede not,
You do not declare your selfe of generous birth,
Thus openly to accuse a Gentle-woman,
Were it a truth.
Grat.
He may throw soyle at heauen,
And as soone staine it.
Mar.
Sirra boy, who made you so peremptory
He would be whipt.
Mil.
With what? I am not arm'd
You see, but your big language would not fright
My youth, were it be friended with a sword;
You should find then I would dare to proue it
A false hood, on your person.
Iust.
How now Milisent?
Hath my loue made mee thus ridiculous?
Beauford, that you will suffer such a boy
To affront me? then against all the world
I rise an enemy, and defie his valour
Dares iustifie Gratiana vertuous.
Enter Isaac, and Cardona.
Isa.
Beleeue your eyes.
Car.
My daughter aliue?
Oh my deare heart.
Mar.
You are come opportunely,
Cardona speake the truth, as thou wouldst not
Eate my poinard, is not Gratiana
A sinnefull woman.
Mar.
What meanes Marwood, ha?
Bel.
I am in a laborinth?
Car.
Hold, I confesse—
You neuer did enioy Gratiana.
Mar.
Ha?
Car.
Let not our shame be publicke, sir, you shall
Haue the whole truth, oh that my teares were able
To wash my sinne away—won with your promises,
I did, in hope to make my self a fortune,
And get a husband for my childe, with much
Blacke oratoury, woe my daughter to
Supply Gratianaes bed, whom with that
Circumstance, you enioy'd, that you beleeu'd
It was the virgin you desir'd.
Bel.
Ist possible?
Mar.
I am at a confusion, where's this daughter?
Car.
She with the feare (as I conceiue) of her
Dishonour, taking a few iewels with her,
Went from me, I know not whither, by this time
Dead, if not more vnhappy in her fortune.
Mar.
Into how many sinnes hath lust engag'd me?
Is there a hope you can forgiue, and you,
I neuer had a conscience till now,
To be grieu'd for her, I will hide my selfe
From all the World.
Mil.
Stay sir—
Grat.
You heare this Beauford, father—
Beau.
This she confest to me, though I conceal'd
From thee the errour, Marwood dead, their shame
Would not ha giuen my life aduantage, now
We haue ore-come the malice of our fare:
I hope you'le call me sonne.
Bel.
Both my lou'd children.
Iust.
I congratulate your ioy.
Mar.
Beauford, Gentle-men,
This is a woman, Lucibel your daughter,
The too much iniur'd maide: oh pardon me,
Welcom both to my knowledge, and my heart.
Car.
Oh my childe.
Iust.
My seruant prooue a woman?
Bel.
You'le marry her.
Mar.
It shall begin my recompence:
Lead you to Church, we'le find the Priest more worke.
Iust.
He has done some already, for by this time
I haue a daughter married to young Hauer,
That walk'd in Rawbones liuery,—they'r return'd.
Enter Captaine, Hauer, Iane, Lodam, and Cameleon.
Hau.
Father your pardon, though you meant me not
Your sonne, yet I must call your daughter wife:
Here I resigne my Citizen.
Bel.
Young Hauer.
Iust.
My blessing on you both,
I meant it so: a letter tooke off this
Disguise before; nay here are more couples,
Enough to play at Barly-break—.
Raw.
Master Lodam, you and I are in Hell.
How?
Hau.
You and I are friends.
Lod.
I knew by instinct, I had no quarrell to thee:
Are thou Rawbone?
Raw.
I am not drunke—
Lod.
No, but thou art disguis'd shrewdly.
Raw.
I wonot beleeue, I am awake:
This is not possible.
Beau.
Leaue off to wonder Captaine.
Cap.
Sure this is a dreame.
Raw.
As sure, as you are there Captayne, 'las wee doe but
walke and talke in our sleepe, all this while.
Bel.
Away, away.
Lod.
I to dinner bullies.
Raw.
D'ee heare Gentle-men, before you go, does no-body
know me? who am I? who am I?
Iust.
You are master Rawbone sir, that would haue married
my daughter, that is now wise, I take it, to this Gentle-man, your
seeming seruant.
Raw.
Dreame on, dreame on: Iasper, make much a'the wench
now th'ast got her, am not I finely guld?
Hau.
I thinke so.
Raw.
Dreame on together, a goodiest yfaith, he thinkes all this
is true now.
Cap.
Are not you then, awake sir?
Raw.
No marry am I not sir.
Cap.
What d'ee thinke a'that sir.
kickes him.
Raw.
That sir? now do I dreame that I am kickt.
Cap.
You doe not feele it then.
Raw.
Kicke, kicke your hearts out.
Lod.
Say you so, let my foote be in too then.
Raw.
Sure I shall crye out in my sleep—what a long night tis.
Bel.
Set on.
Lod.
I, I, we may come backe, and take him napping.
Beau.
Come Gratiana,
So long deferr'd, neuer did two louers,
Meet in so little time so many changes;
Our Wedding day is come, the sorrowes past
Shall giue our present ioy more heauenly tast.
Exeunt.
| The Wedding | |