 | The Bird in a Cage |  |
Actus, IIII.
Scæna, I.
Enter Dondolo, and Grutti.Dond.
Rollyardo
pay his debts? Sure the fellow that
never saw much money in's life, now by the
Duke made Master of so many summes, is growne madde
with 'em.
Grut.
Many other he hath discharg'd they say.
Dond.
He'l undoe the Exchequer, and hee hold on, he
shall be Chronicl'd for't.
Grut.
He has some cause to imagine himselfe short
liv'd, and that makes him so desperately charitable, toward
his end. Signior Perenotto.
Enter Perenotto.
Peren.
Dondolo and Grutti, Newes, Newes for yee.
Don.
What we beseech you.
Per.
You have lost the best mirth in Italy in your absence,
your Companion Morello—
Don.
Was carryed to the Duke in a Peticote, in which
he attempted a passage to the sequestred Ladyes—what's
the yssue.
Per.
Mirth in Aboundance.
Grut.
How came he off?
Per.
Nay 'tis on still, the Duke to make himselfe sport,
would call a Counsell, before whom the poore Signior
Businesse was merrily discust, & the pitifull proiector was
iudg'd—
Don.
How, how?
Per.
To weare the petticote for a Month, if he appeare
without it during the Terme, hee incurres his perpetuall
exile from Court.
Don., Gru.
Ha, ha, ha.
Per.
You may imagine with what variety of lamentable
faces, the Courtier heard his unexpected sentence, some
would have pleaded for him but for laughter, which continued
so long and so high, that he had time to collect his
scattered senses, and instead of sowning, which was expected,
he grew fortifi'd, and most humbly besought the
Duke, since his sentence had past so definitive, hee would
be so mercifull, to admit him that course of a Moone to be
his Ieaster, that since hee could not shake off the Fooles
Coat, that he might have that favourable pretence to
keepe it on.
Grut.
Very good—
Per.
'Twas easily granted, but ever since, to the astonishment
of the hearers, he is growne so iocund and ayrie,
nay as if he had beene borne with a Song in's head, he talkes
everlasting Ballad, no man laughes at him but hee lashes
him in Rime worse then a Satyr, the Duke has priviledg'd
his mirth, made him foole-free, and now hee playes the
Tyrant—hee's here already.
Enter Morello like a Jeaster.
Mor.
O yes, o yes, o yes,
If there be any one in City or in Towne
Can shew me a wise man Ile please him for his paine.
Per.
Disgrace has made him witty.
Don.
What will you say to him, will shew you a wise
man?
Mor.
Marry if he goe farre, he is not so wise as hee
should be. Dondolo, Grutti! Old acquaintance how is't?
How is't?
Grut.
The case is alter'd with you.
It does appeare so, but nothing can make mee
proud, Ile know my Fellowes.
Per.
How doe you meane Morello?
Mor.
Your Lordship may make one at Football,
'Tis all the sport now a dayes.
What other is the world then a Ball,
Which we run after with whoope and with hollow,
He that doth catch it is sure of a fall,
His heeles tript up by him that doth follow.
Dond.
Doe not women play too?
Grut.
They are too light, quickly downe.
Mor.
O yes, they are the best Gamesters of all,
For though they often lye on the ground,
Not one amongst a hundred will fall,
But under her coates the Ball will found.
With a Fading.
But we be three of old, without exception to your Lordship,
onely with this difference, I am the wisest Foole, for
you play the foole in your old clothes, and I have a new
Coate on.
Per.
Does it not become him.
Don.
Rarely well, doe you ever meane to resigne it.
Grut.
'Twere pitty but he should have a patent for't,
to him and his posterity.
Mor.
Harke you Gentlemen, d'yee heare the Newes?
Dond.
Newes what newes?
Mor.
Dee not heare on't yet, why 'tis in a Ballad already.
Grut.
And thou canst sing it?
Mor.
'Twas well guest, and I can but hit oth' Tune.
Did meet with two visible Geese,
He led em a fine invisible dance,
For a hundred crownes a peece.
Jnvisible all but his hand he would goe,
But when it came to be tride,
But a faire paire of heeles beside.
Jnvisible since their wits have beene,
But yet there is hope of eyther,
Their wit and their Crownes may returne againe,
Invisible altogether.
Exit.
Grut.
And he continue thus but a Moone, he'll make
the Court mad.
Per.
Oh 'twill be excellent, since it is not safe for a wise
man to speake truth, 'twere pitty fooles should loose
their priviledge.—The Duke.
Enter Duke, Fulvio, and Courtiers.
Fulv.
My Lord.
Du.
What is't?
Fulv.
Here's an important Suiter calls himselfe
An Artist, humbly craves admittance with
A present which he'd tender to your Acceptance,
And if my iudgment erre not, a most pleasing one.
Du.
Let us see him, and his present
It will reward my Daughters patience
Love and Obedience:—All the Rarities
Ten Kingdomes yeeld, shall not be thought too weightie,
That she may shift each solitary houre
With a fresh Obiect.
Enter Bonamico.
A Cage discovered.
Dond.
Bonamico?
Grut.
Tis he.
Duk.
By my Love to goodnesse
It is a Master-piece, 'twill feed the Eye
With plenty of delight.
Bon.
I am as iocund since I am admitted, I talke as glib
Me thinkes, as he that farmes the Monuments.
Du.
Is't not Sirs?
Per.
My Lord, I ha not seene so much delight
In any piece these 7-yeares.
Du.
Where's the Master of this Worke?
Bon.
My Lord,
I am the Constable, that put all these in the Cage,
late houres, though they all weare feathers, there's not a
Rorer amongst em, and yet were they suffer'd, they'd flye
high, for some of 'em are very lofty minded.
Duke.
A pleasant fellow too.
Bon.
Oh my Lord, w'are all borne in our degrees to
make one another merry, the Birds make me merry, I
make my wife merry, the Foole makes your Courtiers
merry, and the Courtiers make your Grace merry.
Duke.
And whom doe I make merry?
Bon.
The whole Common-wealth if you governe
handsomely.
Duke.
There's salt in's mirth:—
Ile ha this fellow wayt ith' Court.
Bon.
I shall be kickt out by the Pages.
Duke.
Why so?
Bon.
Because I cannot flatter.
Duke.
A conceyted Thing,
We lacke the Humourist Rollyardo heere.
Dond.
We see him ith' Court ere while my Lord.
Duke.
This humor would ha bin a gadflie to him
And stung him to the quicke.
Bon.
Not altogether so Duke?
Grut.
Fellow, what Bird is that?
Bon.
Fellow?—Cry mercy, I'de forgot you, fellow
Ile tell thee, d'ee not know him, tis an Arabian Woodcocke,
the same that carried a Bunch of Grapes in January
last to Bethlem Gabor.
Dond.
And what call you this?
Bon.
This was the Duke of Venice his owne Bulfinch,
And taken by the Turkes.
Du.
By the Turkes sayst thou? He droopes indeed.
Bon.
Since his Captivity the Wretch indur'd
Much misery by the Infidell, it had nothing
But bread and water for three Months.
Fulv.
A shrewd Calamity.
Duke.
I doe affect this Fellowes prate.
Per.
VVhat's this?
This is the Blackbird, which was hatcht that day
Gondamoure dyed, and which was ominous
About that time Spinola's Thrush forsooke him.
Per.
Was this he—
Bon.
Yes.
Duke.
And what was this?
Bon.
This was the Pidgeon was so shrewdly handled
For carrying Letters at the siege of Bergen.
Per.
Alas pretty Bird—
Bon.
This a Wagtayle of the City, which a Silkeman
So deerely lov'd, he call'd it wife, but could not
(Though in much Iealousie he had cag'd her up)
Keepe her from flying out: This was a Rayle,
Bred up by a zealous Brother in Amsterdam
Which being sent unto an English Lady,
VVas tane at Sea by Dunkirks—Name but Rome,
And straight she gapes as she would eate the Pope:
A Bird to bee made much on: Shee and the Horse
That snorts at Spaine, by an instinct of Nature
Should ha shewne trickes together: I could run over—
But your gracious pardon.
Duke.
How, our pardon?
Bon.
I'm now another man, and know my distance.
Duke.
This man is good at all.
Brn.
My Buffoone face is off, I did but shew
The impudent condition of a Mountebancke
That sets off base Toyes with miraculous Lyes
Thus farre Ile boast: they are the onely choyce
Jtaly and other parts of Europe yeeld
For the worke if it prove so fortunate
To receive Grace from your divine acceptance
The workeman-ship (so duty suffer not)
I freely tender—
Duke.
No, that were to quench
The fire in all Deservers—Fulvio.
Fulv.
My Lord.
Duke.
Pay the cost double, Ile send it to my daughter.
Bon.
It takes, as Art could wish it.
Duke.
I know it is a present, the sweet soule
Will rayse much joy in:—Signior Perenotto—
My Lord.
Bon.
There are two Birds I ha not nam'd.
Dond.
What are they?
Bon.
A paire of Guls, which you may share betweene you.
Per.
It shall my Lord.
Duke.
If Florence now keepe touch, we shortly shall,
Conclude all feare, with a glad Nuptiall.
Exeunt.
Enter Eugenia, Fidelia, Mardona, Donella, Cass. Katerina.
Don.
Yee like this Story best then?
Eug.
That of Jupiter and Danae comes neare our owne.
Don.
Be it so, we are all perfect in the plot I thinke.
Eug.
You shall dispose the rest.
Don.
You will not be ambitious then, and quarrell
About the parts, like your spruce Actor, that will not play
out of the best Clothes, and the fine young Prince, who if
he fight, 'tis sixe to foure he kils all and gets the Lady.
Fid.
We are constant, you shall appoint 'em.
Don.
Then Madam without Ceremony, you shall ply
Danae, that is shut up in the Brazen Tower.
Eu.
Well I'm contented, 'twill suit with my present fortune.
Don.
I need not to instruct you in the Character: you
shall bee the King Acrisius her father, a iealous, harsh,
crabbed man, who in feare of the Oracle, commands her
to be thus inclos'd.
Mar.
So:—Ile fit you for a Vineger King.
Don.
No matter for Properties—
We'll imagine Madam you have a beard.
Fid.
What shall I play?
Don.
You must be Ladies whom the King leaves to
keepe her Company, entertaine what humor you please.
Cass., Kat.
This is our owne parts indeed.
Don.
Yee will play it the more naturally, and let me alone
to play the Thunderer, Ile wanton love it:—now
what your inventions and about it, imagine our Scene exprest,
and the New Prison the Title advanc'd in forme.
The new Prison! why?
Don.
O 'tis an excellent Name, where Spectators throng
together; as ours doe me thinkes in the Arras already:
the Musique ha' their part, dispose your selves for your entrances,
while I speake the Prologue to our mixt audience
of Silke and Cruell Gentlemen in the hangings—hem.
Kat.
Let it be a confident Prologue howsoever.
Musique.
Don.
Y'are welcome to new Prison, we have still,
Our ancient Keeper, and we feare he will
Speake in his old Key too, but doe not looke for
Choyce dyet, for alas, we play the Cooke for
All you are like to feed on, let your Pallat
Expect at most then, but a Root or Sallat.
Pick'd from the Prison Garden, we know you are
Iudicious Hangings, and well seene, nor dare,
We lift you up (too bold) lest we incense
Your greene and spreading wits with impudence.
As I began, let me conclude in Rime.
Hang Still you learned Criticks of the Time.
Now Danae and the Ladies.
Eug.
Was ever Father to his Childe
So unkind, it makes me wilde.
When to beguile a tedious houre,
From the top of this high Tower,
I see every other Creature,
Injoy a Liberty by Nature.
Can the silver running Fountaines.
And the Cloud aspiring Mountaines.
Every Grove, and flowery field,
But a new Affliction yeeld.
Don.
This is excellent, she has plaid the part before.
Cass.
Waste not your selfe in wofull plaint,
Sorrow will not helpe Restraint.
Thinke Madam all is but a dreame,
That we are in—Now I am out—beame, creame.
Helpe me Katerina, I can make no sence rime to't.
Don.
Creame is as good a Rime as your mouth can wish,
Ha, ha, ha.
Does not the Arras laugh at me? it shakes me thinks
Kat.
It cannot chuse, there's one behind does tickle it.
Eug.
A dreame! Alas 'tis no reliefe
For us to flatter so much griefe.
Fancy wants power to delight,
Or if we could thinke it might,
Such a dreame so sad would make us,
That it could not choose but wake us.
Don.
My Lady has helpt her pretty well out of her dreame.
Kat.
The Sunne with glittering golden Rayes,
May appeare one of these dayes.
You know alwayes after Winter,
Comes the Spring and pleasant Summer.
Don.
Winter and Summer, ha, ha, ha.
Mar.
Winter and Summer? By my faith that's well,
there's but halfe a yeare betweene, there be some call themselves
Poets, make their Rimes straddle so wide, 212.
Moneth will hardly reconcile 'em, and I hope, a Lady may
stradle a little by Poeticall Licence.
Cass.
Madam your father King Acrisius.
Mard.
Must I enter already—hum.
Eug.
This is his houre to visite us.
Mard.
How fares our daughter?
Cass.
What voyce is that?
Don.
The King speakes through a Trunke.
Mard.
How is't heroicke Birth, what dulnesse cold
As Saturnes, dwels on thy forehead, be bold
To give thy griefe a Tongue, instruct, child
My paternall Nature, lest I grow wild
As the rude North:—thought of thee makes my hayres
Silver, my bloud is curdled with my cares.
Don.
Most high and mighty Nonsence, sure the King
has swallow'd Pilles, and his stomacke not able to digest
'em, does vomit 'em up againe.
Mard.
Is thy Organ dumbe
Or am I growne cheape in Maiesty, triviall Foole
Shall I reape crabbed Thistles in neglect for rich Love?
Crabbed Language I am sure.
Don.
Sure my Lady does not understand him.
Eug.
If my brow so sad appeare
My Fortunes Livery I weare,
Mar.
Weepe no more, thy eyes pave the ground with pearle.
My power is rac'd, My Crowne thy Tribute Girle,
Here is nothing to want.
Eugen.
Nothing to want indeed: to bee
A Prisoner speakes all Miserie.
Mar.
Curse not thy soft Starres, but take thy fayre Blisse
With comfort, free from lowd noyse and Feare, is
Thy gawdy Station, when I have unskrew'd
Mistique Oracles, which not understood,
Doe perplexe with involv'd sence,—I shall then
Enlarge thy person Danae, till when
If ought else doe clog thy Thoughts, with unkind
Thoughts, unload the darke burthen of thy mind.
Pronounce thy griefe aloud my amourous Darling
And I will—
Cass.
Let him choose his Rime I beseech you Madam.
Mar.
Vh, uh—cold phlegme obstructs my Language—barling, carling.
Don.
Ha, ha, 'tis time to make an end,
He was almost choak'd with his owne phrase.
Mard.
And you get me to play an old man againe.—
Don.
We'l have a yong one for thee, 21. and a Coat, is
a double game:—my turne comes next.
Eug.
Hee's gone and leaveth us behind
To tell our passions to the wind.
Ha? what oth' suddaine doth surprize
My active motion? On my eyes
What darke and heavie Cloud doth sit,
To perswade me it is Night,
It is some Charme, I cannot keepe
These windowes open, I must sleepe.
Enter Jupiter.
Cass.
This was well passionated, now comes Jupiter
To take my Lady napping, we'l sleepe too, let the wanton
Jupit.
Let the Musique of the Spheares,
Captivate these Mortall Eares;
While Jove descends into this Tower,
In a golden streaming shower.
To disguise him from the Eye
Of Juno, who is apt to prye
Into my pleasures, I to day
Have bid Ganimed goe play,
And thus stole from Heaven to bee
Welcome on Earth to Danae.
And see where the Princely Mayd,
On her easie Couch is layd.
Fayrer then the Queene of Loves,
Drawne about with milkie Doves.
To thee let Paphian Altars smoake,
Priests thy better Name invoke.
When Hymen lights his holy fires
Thou that canst infuse desires
In the Gods, from thy Lip
Let Iove heavenly Nectar sip.
And translate by kissing thee
Into thy breast his Deity:
But I rob my selfe of Treasure,
This is but the Gate of Pleasure.
To dwell here, it were a sin,
When Elizium is within.
Leave off then this flattering Kisses,
Bell within.
To rifle other greater Blisses.
Eug.
The Bell—Newes from my Father.
Cass.
Then your play is interrupted Iove-Madam Ile see.
Don.
Beshrew the Belman, and you had not wak'd as
you did Madam, I should ha' forgot my selfe and play'd Iupiter
indeed with you, my imaginations were strong upon
me; and you lay so sweetly—how now?
Cass.
A present Madam from the Duke: one of the finest
pieces of Pageantry that ere you saw: 'tis a Cage with
Ladies to bring it in.
Eug.
A Cage—if from Florence it shall to the fire,
Or whencesoe're it cannot be intended
But as a Mockery of my Restraint
I'm very sad oth' suddaine: ha? 'tis so
Breake it to pieces.
Don.
'Twere pitty Madam to destroy so much Art.
Eug.
Yet spare the Workemanship, in the perusall
There's something pleades for Mercy:—I feele within
Some alteration, I know not what
Let me intreat your absence for some Minutes,
I am in earnest, pray doe without Reply.
Your eyes shell feed with plenteous satisfaction
On this gay object, when I call you.
Lad.
We obey you.
Eug.
Yet can't I say I am alone, that have
So many Partners in Captivitie?
Sweet fellow Prisoners, 'twas a cruell Art,
The first Invention to restraine the wing.
To keepe th'Inhabitants oth' ayre close Captive
That were created to Skye freedome: Surely
The mercilesse Creditor tooke his first Light
And Prisons their first Models from such Bird Loopes;
I know yon Nightingale is not long liv'd,
See how that Turtle mournes wanting her Mate.
And doth the Duke my Father, thinke I can,
Take Comfort eyther in restraint, or in
The sight of these that every moment doe
Present it to me, were these tendered me?
They shall no more be Prisoners to please me,
Nor shall the woods be rob'd of so much Musique.
She opens the Cage, and Rolliardo comes from the Piller.
Roll.
I take you at your word faire Princesse,
I am the truest Prisoner, tremble not,
Feare flyes the Noble mind, for injury dares not come neare.
Eug.
Sir, what are you?
Roll.
The humblest of your Servants.
You are not mine, for in this bold Attempt
You have undone me.
Roll.
You see I keepe at distance.
Eug.
Y'are too neare, I will discover you, tho
I fall my selfe by your presumption.
Roll.
Hold, be counsell'd rather
But to calme Silence for a paire of minutes
And none shall perish, you shall save him too
That would for your sake loose himselfe for ever.
Eug.
For my sake? What Relation has my Birth
Or any passion I call mine to you.
Roll.
Nor doome me unto scorne, I am a Gentleman,
And when my inimitable Resolution
In those Attempts whose very sounds breeds Earthquakes
In other hearers, shall your knowledge fill,
With wonder and amaze; you will at least
Thinke I fall too low, if I love beneath you.
Eug.
Ha? this is a strange accident.
Roll.
Was it lesse
Then death deare Princesse to adventure hither.
Eug.
It will be death how ever.
Roll.
Y'are deceiv'd Lady.
Eug.
How I'm perplex'd.
Roll.
It had beene death
Your sight gives me a Lease of longer life,
My head stands fast.
Eug.
He speakes all mystery, I shannot get him off I
feare without some staine.
Roll.
The truth is Princesse, if you now discover me,
(Tho I made nice at first to put your fright by)
You cannot harme me much, I ha' done my taske,
Doe you feare me still? why is there such a space
Betwixt us Lady?—Can you keepe that man
At so unkind a distance, that for your sake
Has in his undertaking swallow'd danger
Rob'd death, of all his feares.
Eug.
For my sake.
Yours—faire Princesse, dare you so far trust me yet
To let me kisse your hand.
Eug.
Audacious Sir,
I shall grow lowd if you forget your distance
Nor that you may hold long—
I'm studying how I should bee rid of him without theyr
Knowledge: yet that's dangerous too, and might
Shew guilt in me, for he will boast on't.
Roll.
Such was the Duke your gracious fathers care
He would put confidence in none about him,
But saw me brought himselfe.
Eug.
This is a fine Paradoxe.
Roll.
Which must be to high purpose: come be wise
And keepe me while you have me, 'tis but reaping
This fruitlesse Harvest, from my cheeke and chin
And you can forme the rest, y'are young and beautifull
Loose not the blessing of your Youth sweet Princesse
Fayre opportunity waytes vpon your pleasure,
You want but the first knowledge of your ioy.
Your Bloud is ripe, come I am confident
Your will is but controul'd by upstart Feares,
Like advanc'd Beggers, that will checke their Princes,
My safest way is yours, now to conceale me,
It may be thought I have inioy'd you else,
Ill Censure soone takes fire, nay perhaps
To be reveng'd of your sterne cruelty,
Ile sweare my selfe I have possest you freely,
Play your game wisely then, your honor lyes
Full at my mercy, come, 'tis in your love,
To lead me to a secret Couch.
Eug.
Bold Villaine
For these uncivill most unhallowed words,
Ile dye but Ile undoe thee.
Roll.
Stay and let me circle in mine Armes
All happinesse at once, I have not Soule
Enough to apprehend my ioy, it spreads
I am the Prince of Florence, that owe Heaven
More for thy vertues, then his owne Creation.
I was borne with guilt enough to cancell,
My first puritie, but so chast a Love
As thine, will so refine my second being
When holy marriage frames vs in one piece,
Angels will envie me.
Eug.
Ha? the Prince of Florence.
Roll.
I ha made no travaile for so rich a Blessing,
Turne me to Pilgrimage, divinest Beauty,
And when I ha' put a girdle 'bout the World,
This Purchase will reward me.
Eug.
Purchase?—I am not bought and sold I hope?
Roll.
Give it what name you will, y'are mine Eugenia.
Eug.
Your's Prince? I doe not know by what Title you
pretend this claime; I never yet remember that I saw you,
Produce your witnesse, when I gave it you,
I have possession yet, ere I deliver it,
You must shew stronger evidence.
Roll.
Are we not Contracted?
Eug.
Contracted? when? where?—Good Prince I pitty your abuse.
Roll.
'Tis firme betweene our Fathers.
Eug.
Mine cannot give away my heart.
Roll.
Cannot?
Eug.
Shall not Prince, your travaile and your trouble
With this Conceipt to boote, were it your owne
Invention, withall your Birds about you
That can take me.
Roll.
Is it my person Madam
You hold unworthy? For my birth and Fortune
Cannot deserve your scorne.
Eug.
It takes not from
The greatnesse of your State, or bloud my Lord
To say I cannot Love you, since Affection
Flowes uncompel'd, and rests in the cleere obiect,
Nor doe I rob your person of iust valew,
If to me other seeme as faire, and comely,
Forme may apparell, and become what we
To promise you a happyer choyce, attempt
A Nobler Fate, and leave me to my selfe
And humble Destiny, for know Florentine
I have but one Faith, one Love, and though my Father
Locke up my person, 'tis beyond his Will
To make me false to him I gave my faith to.
And y'are not Noble now if you proceed,
Be then what you were borne, and doe not tempt
A woman to commit a Sacriledge:
For when I give my heart to any other
Then my Philenzo, I commit that sin.
He discovers himselfe.
Roll.
If you'll not pardon, Ile deliver up,
Philenzo to be punish'd for this tryall—See Lady.
Eug.
My deere banisht Philenzo!
Roll.
O let not such a glorious building stoope
It is my duty,
Eug.
I will make it mine.
Roll.
I have a double duty, for I owe
Your Constancy as much respect and Reverence,
As your most Princely person.
Eug.
What for our safety?
Roll.
Oh with what willingnesse could I be lost
In this distracted Wildernesse of Ioy.
To morrow Madam, I goe to my Arraignment.
Eug.
How?
Roll.
Spend no feare upon't
Your Story shall be pleasing:—I ha' much
To tell you—for your Ladyes.
Eug.
They are mine, what should our innocence
Feare in their knowledge, I desire to heare
The Circumstance of this wonder
Roll.
It attends,
The Story past; we must some Counsell find,
The puzzle of our Fate, is still behind.
Exeunt.
| The Bird in a Cage | |