 | The Royall Master |  |
THE FIRST ACT.
Enter King of Naples, the Duke of Florence, Montalto, Octavio, Riviero, Andrugio, Guido, Aloigio, Alexio.Duke
Y'are great in all that's good.
King
You shew the bounty
Of your opinion; my extent in all things
Is but to bid you welcome; you had a sister,
The envy of the Angels whilst she lived
Our Queene, now made their blest companion;
Should wee exempt those faire deserts dwell in you,
So much we owe her memory.
Duke
Pray no more.
Rivi.
We must not be too open, truest friend,
Thy bosome is my Sanctuary.
Andr.
When it leaves
To be Religious for thy safety, may it
By an angry flame from heaven, be turnd to ashes.
Duke
Your nature is too soft; let not the mention
Of her that was my sister, and your Queene
Beget another sigh; she was long since blest;
You were not framed to be her Monument;
Sleepe let her ashes in the urne, conteines 'em.
King.
I ha done.
Enter Theodosia, Ladies.
Duke.
Your sister.
King.
Is all the treasure
Is left me sir, but cannnot be too rich
For your acceptance.
Duke.
All my wealth is summ'd
When shee does smile upon me, and her Character
In the full glory, when shee's nam'de your sister;
Are you not weary of a guest deare Madam?
Am I still welcome?
Theo.
Sir wee are
All honour'd in your presence; and though not high
To your merit, yet your entertainement is,
As full of love, as nature can expresse
To a twin brother, more I dare presume,
You shall accuse your selfe, if you be lesse,
A Prince in Naples by free use of power,
Then your owne Florence.
Duke.
Madam you must be
Lesse faire, and powerfull in tongue, if you
Expect I should be still a Prince; and yet
My ambition will be high, and glorious
Enough to be receiv'd your Graces servant;
For whom I should account my age no travell,
To have my pilgrimage rewarded with
Your faire eyes Madam, able to create
Another life and spirit in old Nature.
King.
How does Montalto like the Duke?
Montal.
Sir, Naples cannot study an addition
Of fame, beyond what this alliance will
Deserve in future story; the excesse
Of what is good, nay excellent in him
would stocke a barren Province.
King.
Tis our happinesse.
But 'tis not mine; for though I thus disguise
My face, and tongue, my heart is my owne friend,
And cannot wish my ambition supplanted
By any smooth chin'd Prince alive; my Lords—
Andr.
Look how they flock, and fawne upon his greatnes;
These are his creatures, by his power plac'd
So neare about the King he can heare nothing
Of his great favorite, but what their flattery
And partiall tongues convey into his eare.
Rivi.
Pitty so sweete a nature as the Kings
Should be abus'd by Parasites; but I may
In time dissolve these court mists, that so long
Have hung upon't, and render the Kings eyes
Free to distinguish objects, if there be
No witchcraft exerciz'd upon his senses.
1 Lady.
My Lord you are very pleasant.
Octav.
Is it not
Becomming the discretion of a young
Courtier to observe times and methods; and when Madam
Are you for this match?
1 Lady.
What my Lord?
Octav.
You wod not
Be sad at heart, to sleepe with such a bedfellow
As the Duke is?
2 Lady.
How my Lord?
Octav.
Provided
Matrimony were not farre of; yet without it
There are some Ladies, would excuse their modestie,
And meete and thinke their fate at all adventures,
If no worse man would make their husband of
The honorable order of the night-cap.
1 Lady.
When will you marry my Lord?
Octav.
I am young;
Yet when I am ripe to grapple with a maidenhead,
The Lord Montalto the great Court Patron
Will helpe me to a wife.
2 Lady.
You are bound to his Lordship.
Octav.
And so I am Madam, if you knew all;
But there is one writ here, whose memory
Will keepe my soule awake.
King.
Andrugio—
Guido.
I doe not like their conference.
Mont.
'Las he has no imployment in the state;
He waites like a dull cipher and I have
My spies upon him; if I finde him busie,
My power with the king shall soone transplant him,
Or force him like Riviera his old friend,
But of more braine and faction, to give up
His ghost abroad.
Aloi.
'Twas just for your owne safety.
Monta.
This is an honest easy Nobleman,
Allowed to weare some Court formallity;
Walke on the tarres, picke his teeth, and stroake
Vpon a festivall some golden sentence
Out of his beard, for which the guard admire him,
And cry him up a Statesman; hee's sent off
When he is troublesome to a phlegmaticke clime
A dull Embassadour; no, that Duke, Guido,
Is all my feare, but I have contrived something
May rectifie my fate.
Duke.
How much you honour me;
But you might spare all other entertainements
And bravery of Court; they may affect
My eyes with wonder, and obliege my just
Acknowledgement, but all their glorie's met
Into one height, hold no proportion
To inflame my heart, or more expresse my welcome
Then this your free grace Madam, and those hopes
That blesse my imagination from your favour.
Theo.
I am but what my brothers love, and vertue
Will make me; but there's nothing that can move
With his consent, I shannot flie to obey.
Mont.
I had rather feede upon his heart;
You promis'd Sir the Duke to hunt this morning.
King.
I had forgot; will you be pleas'd to try
Duke.
Ile attend.
King.
Theodosia, you are not for that exercise
Guido.
whispers and sends Guido off.
Theo.
I wish all pleasures waite upon you;
My heart must covet your returne.
Duke.
And mine,
To dwell for ever in so faire a bosome.
King.
To horse; the morning wasts.
Mon.
Some policie
Must cure this feare; my bold resolves are fixt;
I have made some attempts, and courted her,
But shee has not understood me; I must worke
By countermine and scatter into aire
His swelling hopes: Octavio—
Exit.
Octav.
My good Lord.
Andr.
Sir I present this Gentleman to kisse
Your hand; hee's the Dukes secretary, a Roman
Borne, and has a great ambition
To be knowne to you for your fathers sake,
With whom he did converse in Rome, and honour,
Till death concluded their acquaintance.
Octav.
Sir,
Your love, and knowledge of my father will
Deserve you should be welcome to his sonne.
Rivi.
He made me his companion many yeares;
No brothers were more chain'd in their affections.
He did impart much of his bosome to me.
Octav.
You knew why he left Naples?
Rivi.
He did trust me, with the cause my Lord, and every circumstance
The Kings minoritie, and Montaltoes power,
Gainst which no innocent could plead in Naples.
Andr.
Not to loud Sir; you may be heard.
Rivi.
Your pardon.
Octav.
Why should truth
Faint at the name of greatnesse? this Colossus
Montalto is but mortall sure; time has
Forgot to use his wings, or nature is
Vnwilling I should grow to write full man,
Our Protean favourite.
Rivi.
It is my wonder
The King so strangely should continue this
Affection to Montalto.
Octav.
There's some magicke in't.
Rivi.
Dare none complaine.
Andr.
His engines are so plac'd
None can approach the kings eare, at which hang
So many flatterers to infect it with
Montaltoes praise.
Rivi.
Pray give me sir this boldnesse;
Hee that doth lift an Axe to strike the roote
Of any family, cannot be without
A thought to wound the branches; you were left
By computation, but an Infant when
Your fathers discontents, and faction of
This Montalto made him forsake Naples,
Which added to your mothers death, the guard
And comforts of your life, were taken from you;
Having exprest this malice to your father,
A thousand wayes he might have sent you to
Another world, and taken off all feare
Of a revenge; how comes it that you live,
And visit Sir the Pallace with this freedome?
Octav.
My Lord Andrugios knowledge of you Sir,
Is my assurance of your faith.
Andr.
Ile give
You reasons at some opportunity
Not to repent your confidence.
Octav.
You have
Supplied my father in your care of me.
I live? why I am this great Lords favorite,
Courted, his creatures are my honours
Companion to his pleasures.
Rivi.
I observ'd
Some gestures very loving to your Lordship.
Octav.
The King himselfe for his sake gracing me
Rivi.
Tis strange;
This newes will coole my resolution.
Andr.
Tis truth he doth ingage him to all favours.
Rivi.
Tis not impossible he may be honest.
Octa.
And meane so; but my soule cannot be brib'd
So easily to prostrate my owne justice
And leave my fathers ashes unreveng'd
Which in my eare groane from beneath the Marble
To keepe my thoughts awake.
Andr.
We may suspect
This is to catch applause a tricke to winne
Vpon the people who did love Riviero
And mourne his fate.
Octav.
How ever I have art
To keepe my breast close, and accept his flatteries,
Can complement and with officious bend
Thanke his high favours, weare a face of mirth
And prattle with the Ladies as if all
The businesse I came into the world for,
Were but to talke and dance, and goe a feasting.
Rivi.
I must presume, you want no counsell from
My Lord who loved your father, how to manage
Your selfe to best advantage of your fame
And honour; unto both I am a servant.
Andr.
My Lord Montalto may expect you Sir.
Rivi.
It is not safe we be observ'd too much.
Octav.
My Lord you have begun a favour by
The acquaintance of this Gentleman; I will
Hope to salute him often by your meanes;
You shall not meete a heart more prompt to bid
You welcome Sir.
Rivi.
You too much grace your servant;
I shall present a trouble.
Octav.
Come my Lord.
Exit.
Rivi.
Montaltoes change hath staggard me already;
These favours may be hearty to Octavio,
And argument of penitence; Ile observe
He whets revenge to make the deeper wound
Exit.
Enter Guido, Bombo.
Guid.
I would speake with your Lady Sir.
Bom.
You may.
Guid.
Direct me.
Bom.
With which of my Ladies.
Guid.
With both, or one.
Bom.
I serve the daughter.
Guid.
I would speake with her.
Bom.
Shee is—I know not where.
Guid.
What Coxcombe's this.
Enter Iacamo.
Guid.
Dost heare friend, I would speake with my Lady
Simphorosa.
Iacam.
This way and please your Lordship.
Guid.
Stay preethe; what fellowe's that?
Iacam.
A servant of my Ladies.
Guid.
Is he mad?
Iaca.
A little phantasticke, but very harmelesse,
And makes my Ladies merry; my young Madam
Domitilla calls him her secretary for sport;
And wonder of his good parts.
Guid.
What are they?
Iaca.
He can neither write nor reade.
Guid.
An excellent Secretary.
Iaca.
But he has beene much given to 't,
To reading, till much poring night and day
Made him booke blinde; and defying spectacles,
He walkes and thinkes he is wise, and talkes upon
His old stocke.
Guid.
Preethe acquaint my Lady; 'ith meane time
Ile have more dialogue with him;
Save you Sir.
Bom.
Save your selfe Sir; you are I tak't a Courtier?
Guid.
And you my Ladies Secretary.
Bom.
I am so.
Guid.
I heare you are an understanding Secretary.
Tis so, I am; how came you by that knowledge?
Guid.
We have your fame at Court Sir.
Bom.
Can you reade?
Guid.
I heare you cannot.
Bom.
Right.
Guid.
Nor write.
Bom.
Tis true.
Guid.
What make you with a booke? ha this is Euclid.
Bom.
Euclid; it may be so.
Guid.
Why these are Mathematickes.
Bom.
I have a Chest full of them in my custody;
They were my old Lords, gray when I tooke charge on 'em
But now looke spruce and young; there's something in 'em.
Gu.
What in the name of ignorance dost thou doe with 'em.
Bom.
I am excellent at turning over leaves,
By which I keepe the wormes away.
Guid.
Most learnedly.
Bom.
I learnt it of my Ladies Chaplaine Sir;
Men are not alwayes bound to understand
Their Library; but to omit learning,
Not now consider'd by wise men, what is
Your businesse here I pray?
Guid.
It does concerne
Your selfe; the King has heard of your good parts.
Bom.
Sir, as you love me say you saw me not;
I knew I should one time or other be
Found out for state imployments; heer's my Lady.
Enter Simphorosa, Domitilla.
I must obscure my selfe.
Domit.
Why how now Secretary,
Whether so fast.
Bom.
You little thinke.
Domit.
What preethe.
Bom.
Nor ever would beleeve; but tis not my fault
If the King come in person, Ile not be seene.
Domit.
The King.
Bom.
Few words; there's one I know him not
Is little better then a spy upon me;
Exit.
Domit.
So it seemes.
Simp.
How? dine to day with us.
Guid.
Such is his royall pleasure;
He is now hunting with the Duke, whom he
Intends to make your guest too.
Simp.
My Lord I am not us'd to entertainements,
Nor is my house fit for so great a presence;
To avoide a storme they might obey
Necessity, and take it for some shelter,
But in so calme a day.
Guid.
Madam although
You please to under valew what's your owne,
The King despaires not you will bid him welcome;
You have no narrow dwelling, and he knowes
Your heart is spacious like your fortunes Madam;
Princes doe honour when they come upon
Their subjects invitation, but they love
Where they invite themselves.
Simp.
My duty is
To meete that interpretation, though the newes
Come unexpected; now it will my Lord
Become me to be thrifty of the minuts,
Their persons being so neare; you will excuse
If so short summons doe expect my care
To entertaine 'em; my good Lord you have honor'd me.
Guid.
Tis service I am bound to.
Exit Simpho.
Domit.
Pray my Lord,
In your opinion, what should moove the King
To invite himselfe our guest, and bring the Duke
Along with him; he us'd not to retire
From hunting with this ceremony.
Guid.
Princes
Are like the windes, and not to be examin'd
Where they will breath their favours.
Domit.
Tis confest
An honour to us, and I hope you'le pardon
A womans curiositie.
Shall I
Deliver my opinion; while the King
In entertainement of the Duke is shewing
The pleasures and the glories of his kingdome
He cannot hide, that which his Naples boasteth,
Her greatest ornament your beauty Madam.
Domit.
I thanke your Lordship; I may now beleeve
The court's remooving hither; yet this language
Might doe you service to some other Lady
And I release it willingly; your complements
I know my Lord are much worse for wearing
Guid.
You rather will beleeve your selfe worth praise
Then heare it; though we call it modesty,
It growes from some thing like a womans pride;
But it becomes you Madam; I take leave;
My service to your noble Lady mother.
Exit Guido.
Domit.
Mine shall attend your Lordship.
Enter Simphorosa.
Simp.
Now Domitilla, is my Lord gone?
Dom.
Yes Madam.
Simp.
I expected not.
These guests to day, they'le take us unprepard.
Domit.
Not with our hearts to serve 'em, and their goodnes
Will excuse other want.
Simp.
I know not daughter,
But I could wish rather to enjoy our selves,
Not for the cost, those thoughts are still beneath me.
Dom.
You have cause to feare I hope y'are troubled.
Simp.
For thy sake Domitilla.
Dom.
Mine deare Madam.
Simp.
It was for thee I chose this quiet life
Vpon thy fathers death, and left the court;
Thou art all my care, sole heire to all my fortunes,
Which I should see unwillingly bestowed.
On some gay prodigall.
Dom.
I cannot reach
Your meaning.
Simp.
By some hastie marriage.
You would have me live a Virgin; a lesse fortune
Would serve me for a Nunne.
Sim.
Tis not my thought;
Thou art young and faire, and though I doe not
Suspect thy minde, thus farre bred up to vertue,
I would not have it tempted but reserv'de
For a most noble choise, wherein should meet
My care and thy obedience.
Dom.
Y'are my mother,
And have so farre by your example taught me,
I Shall not neede the precepts of your vertue,
And let no thought of me take from your cheerefulnesse
To entertaine the King; we owe him duty,
And that charme wo'not hurt us.
Sim.
This does please me.
Dom.
It shall be still my study.
Sim.
I must see
How they prepare, things may want method else.
Exit Simphorosa.
Enter Octavio.
Octa.
I kisse your faire hand Madam Domitilla;
The King and Duke and all the jolly hunters
With appetites as fierce as their owne hounds,
Will be here presently.
Dom.
I hope they will not
Devoure us my good Lord.
Octa.
But I would sit and feast and feed mine eyes
With Domitillaes beauty.
Dom.
So my Lord; here was a gentleman
You could not choose but meete him spake your dialect;
I have forgot his name, but he was some
Great Lord.
Octa.
Fye what a ignorance you live in,
Not to be perfect in a great Lords name;
There are few Ladies live with us but know
The very Pages; leave this darkenesse Madam,
And shine in your owne sphere, where every starre
Hath his due adoration.
Dom.
Where?
The Court
Confine such beauty to a Countrey house;
Live among Hindes, and thicke skind fellowes that
Make faces, and will hop a furlong backe
To finde the tother leg they threw away
To shew their reverence; with things that squat
When they should make a curtsey; to Court Madam,
And live not thus for shame, the second part
Of a fond Anchorite; we can distinguish
Of beauty there, and wonder without spectacles,
Write Volumes of your praise, and tell the world
How envious diamonds, cause they could not
Reach to the lustre of your eyes dissolv'd
To angry teares; the Roses droope, and gathering
Their leaves together, seeme to chide their blushes
That they must yeeld your checke the victory:
The Lillies when they are censur'd for comparing
With your more cleare and native purity
Want white to doe their pennance in.
Dom.
So, so;
Have you done now my young poeticke Lord.
Octav.
There will be no end Madam of your praises.
Dom.
And to no end you have spent all this breath;
Allow all this were wit, that some did thinke us
The creatures they commend (and those whom love
Hath curst into Idolatry and verse
May perhaps die so) wee doe know our selves
That we are no such things.
Octa.
Ist possible.
Dom.
And laugh at your Chimeraes.
Octa.
Y'are the wiser.
Dom.
If this be your court practise, let me dwell
With truth and plaine simplicity.
Octa.
If I
Might have my choyse, I would live with you Madam
A neighbour to this innocence; your mother.
Enter Simphorosa.
The King is come already.
King.
Madam though you are
So unkinde as not to see the court sometime,
The court is come to visit you.
Sim.
You have
Humbled your selfe too much to doe us honour.
King.
The Duke of Florence.
Sim.
Tis a blessing that
My roofe can boast so great a guest.
King.
Her daughter
Worth your salute.
Duke.
Shee is worth a world my Lord,
What is that Ladies name?
Mont.
In this you most
Appeare a stranger; shee is the glory
Of Naples, for her person and her vertues
That dwells in this obscure place like the shrine
Of some great Saint, to which devotion
From severall parts brings daily men like pilgrimes.
Duke.
Her name.
Mont.
Shee is wit, beauty, chastity, and all
That can make woman lovely to mans soule,
So farre from the capacitie of ill
That vertues in all other of her Sex
Like staines, but set of her perfection;
And when is named all goodnesse in her titles,
The ornament, nay glory of them all
Is Domitilla Sir.
Duke.
You speake her high,
And I may guesse by your description
My Lord, this Lady hath another name;
Shee is your mistresse.
Mont.
Not mine; she was created for some Prince,
And can beside her vertues bring a fortune
Worth his embrace.
Duke.
What charmes are in her lookes.
Mont.
Are you there Duke; this meeting was my project;
If I doe noose your highnesse.
Sim.
Please your Majestie.
King.
All things must please here.
Duke.
I follow Sir.
Sim.
This is a grace I ever must be proud of.
Exeunt.
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