 | The Dvkes Mistris |  |
Actus Tertius.
Enter Bentivolio, Valerio, Horatio.Ben.
I have given a treasure to your bosome Sir.
Val.
You shannot friend repent it, and this act
Of so much confidence, new binds my faith to you;
Contracted to Ardelia? I may chance make use of this.
Your pilgrimage ends here—
Exit Ualerio
Hor.
Doe you know
What you have done?
Ben.
I have told him what
Concern'd Ardelia, and my selfe; thou wod'st
Suspect, and chide my credulous nature, come,
Ile trust him with my life.
Hor.
That's done already,
He has a secret, much good doe him wo't,
Should ha' burnt a passage through my heart, and left
It ashes, ere th'ad wandred from me thus,
And if you never did before, pray now
He may be honost to you, tis too late
To finde compunction for it, pray, and heartily
He may be dumbe.
Enter Valerio and Ardelia.
Signior Bentivolio?
Exit Ardelia, and Bentivolio.
So, so, thats over, now ile conduct you
To your pretious Saint, unlesse your bloud turne
Coward.
Ho.
Oh, never feare it, Sir.
Val.
But would you did
First tell me and discharge me of some wonder,
You have an humor of the newest fashion
I ere yet saw, and how the Court may follow't
I know not, how long have you been possest Sir?
Ho.
Possest? what Divell doe you meane?
Val.
With these ilfavour'd, deform'd women, y'are bewitchd sure?
Ho.
Thou dost not know the fiends I have convers'd with.
Ual.
I have no ambition to be acquainted
With any Goblins, further then their knowledge
Might make me understand the ground of your
Inchantment.
Ho.
Oh a world, Legions, Legions.
Val.
Of what?
Ho.
Of hansome women.
Val.
They the cause of this?
Ho.
Their false, and periur'd natures, I nere met with
One hansome Face that made a conscience of me.
Val.
And dee' thinke to finde
More Faith in those that looke all ore like Devills?
Ho.
Tis possible they may have soules, who knowes?
Howe're in my revenge, ile love, and doate on 'em,
And iustifie thy are the Sexes glorie.
Val.
I have enough.
Enter Ardelia, and Bentivolio.
They are return'd, this way Sir, to your Fayrie.
Exeunt.
Ar.
My dearest Bentivolio, why dost stand
At so much gaze, and distance, as thou wod'st
Teach love unkindnesse, can these outward formes
Disguise me from thy knowledge, lets salute,
My lips retaine their softnesse, and unles
Convey the heartie meaning of our soules,
As we once did.
Ben.
Y'are very brave Ardelia,
Ar.
But have no pride without you, these are no
Glories compar'd to what I weare within,
To see thee safe, whom my feares gave up lost,
And after so much absence, doe I live
To embrace my Bentivolio?
Ben.
You would have me
Beleeve J am welcome hither, faire Ardelia,
Pardon, I know not yet what other name
To call you by, and if I wrong your titles,
Be gentle to my ignorance, this hand
You gave me once, when no ambition frighted
The troth we vow'd, our chast simplicity
Durst kisse without a shame, or feare to be
Divorc'd by greatnes, tell me, sweet Ardelia,
When I did court thy Virgin faith, and paid
An innocent tribute to thy most chast lip,
When we had spent the day with our discourse,
And night came rudely in to part us, what
Were then thy usuall dreames? how many visions
Were let into thy sleepe, thou shouldst be great,
Torne from my bosome, to enrich thy selfe,
And a Dukes armes? and that a time should come,
When I, the promisd Master of this wealth,
Should thus present my selfe a beggar to thee,
And count thy smiles a charitie?
Ard.
What meanes
My Bentivolio by this passionate language?
Ben.
I doe confesse I was compell'd to be
An exile from thee, in obedience to
My father, who would trust me to the Seas,
Or any land, ere leave me to this shipwracke,
For so his anger sinn'd against thy beautie,
Whilst the Idoll Gold grac'd not thy fairer Temple,
Yet when we plighted hearts, Ardelia,
I tied with mine an everlasting contract,
Thine spotles.
Ard.
'Tis the same.
Ben.
The same to me?
What makes you here then? doe not, doe not flatter
Thy guilt so much. Is not this Pavias Court?
Ardelias Court indeed, for she rules here,
The Lady Paramount, whilst the Duke himselfe
Bowes like a subject!
Ar.
Be not, Sir too credulous,
And with too apprehensive thoughts doe injury
To that which you should cherish, the Duke is—
Ben.
Youle say none of your subiect,
He is a prince,
Prince of your Province, writs Ardelia his,
Tis ravish'd all from me, and I am become
A stranger to my owne, nay stand, and see
My treasure rifled, all my wealth tane from me,
And dare not question the injurious power
That revells in my glory, but canst thinke
I will be cold for ever, that all feeds
Of man lie dead, within me, and my soule
Sunke in my phlegme, will never rise to forme
Some iust revenge? thinke there are then noe furies.
Ard.
You come to threaten not to love, and having
Already by long absence made a fault,
To quit your selfe would lay a staine on me,
Tis not well done.
Enter a Servant.
Ser.
The Duke.
Exit.
Ben.
The Duke?
Ard.
Tis possible
He may not feare your anger.
Ben.
I'le squat then
Behind this Hedge, this Garden hath quient shades,
I hope you'le not betray me.
Ard.
This the forme
Of your revenge.
Du.
My faire Ardelia
Excuse me if I presse upon thy private
Walkes, love gives a bouldnes to meane spirits,
But in a Princes brest: tis much more active,
And feares noe imputation, what doth fright
Thy countenance? I hope Ardelia
My presence brings noe horror.
Ard.
Sir, much comfort,
Whether it were my fancie or a truth
I know not.
Du.
What's the matter?
Ard.
You have noe satires
Within this ground, doe any haunte this Garden?
Du.
Satiers?
Ard.
As I have read 'em character'd,
So one appear'd, or I imagin'd so,
And as you entred bid himselfe, they are
Halfe men—
Du.
Halfe beasts.
Ard.
With Goats homes in their fore-head,
The thought on't troubles me.
Du.
The effect onely of melancholie thoughts,
Noe such things are
In nature, yet i'le search, and—strange apprehension.
Ar.
'Twas more then shape, sure it did talke to me,
And threaten me for your sake.
Du.
How? for mine?
I'le have the Trees, and Arbors all torne up,
Divels lurke here? the earth shall not secure 'em,
Ard.
He said he lov'd me, and accus'd my heart
Of periury, as we had beene contracted.
Du.
More strange! my guard!
Ard.
Stay sir, before you goe
Let me beseech your Iustice in defence
Of my much iniur'd honour, as you are
A Prince, I doe beseech you speake all truth,
For let him be the Divell, I'le not have
What fame or fond opinion voic'd of me,
By some that had more thought to serve your will
Then vertue, I was made beleeve you lov'd me,
Which though my force resisted by some practises,
You gaind my person hither, and in Court
Command my stay.
Du.
Entreat, my best Ardelia.
Ar.
You may Sir, smooth your cause, but I can fetch
A witnes from my bosome to convince
The truth I urge yet let me not be lost
To gratitude, my soule bids me acknowledge
Never was subiect to a Prince more bound
For free, and beauteous graces, then Ardelia
To your highnes, and with many lives to wast
In service for them, I were still in debt to you.
Du.
Tis in thy power to satisfie for all,
And leave me ten times more oblig'd to thee.
Ar.
Let me for this time beg on answer from you,
Although I am not ignorant, what price
Your wild bloud would exact, speake in the eare
Of silent heaven, have you obteyn'd so much
As one stoope to your wanton avarice,
One bend to please your inflam'd appetite
Du
Not any yet, the more unkind Ardelia.
Ar.
Speake clearely by the honour of a Prince.
Du.
By better hopes I sweare, and by thy selfe.
Ar.
You doe me Sir, but Justice, I will study
To pay my humblest duty, and i'le tell
When next I see the Satire—
Du.
To discharge those feares, i'le presently destroy,
This Garden, and not leave shelter,
For a Bird.
Ar.
Your pardon,
To what wo'd my immagination lead me?
I see all was but melancholie, here was nothing.
Du.
Fruits of a troubled fancie, come be pleasant,
And tell me when you will redeeme your cruelty,
By what soft wayes I have persued your love,
How nobly I would serue you.
Ar.
Love, your grace
Knowes, never was compelld.
Du.
But love should find
Compassion to the wound it makes, I bleed,
And court thy gentle pity to my sufferings,
All Princes are not of so calme a temper,
Thinke of it my Ardelia, and reward
The modest expectations of a heart,
That in thy absence withers, but i'le have thee
To chide thy cruell thoughts, and till our lipps
Salute agen, flatter my selfe with hope
Thy nature will be wise, and kind to love,
Where tis so fairely courted.
Exit.
Ben.
Is he gone?
With what acknowledgment of my fault Ardelia
Shall I beseech thy pardon, I am lost
In wonder of thy innocence; 'twere just
I should suspect the truth of my owne bosome,
Thou hast too rich a goodnes.
Ar.
Now you flatter,
I knew noe way o'th suddaine to convince you,
But by the Dukes confession, I am yet
Preseru'd my Bentivolio, but with what
Danger of being lost to thee, and honour
I shall remaine here, may concerne our Iealousie,
Ben.
Together with the knowledge of thy vertue
Like balsome powr'd into my eare, I tooke
A poyson from the Duke, I find he loves thee
With a blacke purpose, and within his language
Was something worth our feare indeede, it will
Require our study, and much art, Ardelia.
Ar.
Let's retire into my chamber, and mature
Some course for both our safeties.
Ben.
I attend you.
Exeunt.
Val.
I wo'not stay three minutes, ile but step aside for distillation,
I leave you the pleasure of your eyes.
Exit
Ho.
Well, goe thy waies.
Fia.
Doe you not mocke me Sir, shall I beleeve
A Gentleman of your neate, and elegant making,
Can stoope to such a creature as I am.
Ho.
Will you have me sweare?
Fia.
By no meanes.
Ho.
Then I wo'not,
But I will give it thee under my hand,
Read that.
Fia.
What's this?
Ho.
Something to shew I hate all hansome women.
Fia.
Is't a song?
Ho.
It may be, with a voice, and tune put too't,
Ile reade it.
He reads.
Enter Ualerio, with Aurelia, and Macrina veild.
Val.
I am come agen Sir, and choose, rather then
To afflict you with expectation,
To bring my company along, you may
Salute 'em if you please.
Ho.
They are not welcome.
Val.
Will you beleeve me now?
Aur.
If we may trust our eies.
Ho.
Ladies you must excuse me, I affect
No vulgar beauties, give me a complexion
Cannot be match'd agen in twenty kingdomes,
You have eies, and nose, and lips, and other parts
Proportion'd.
Aur.
Sure the Gentlemans distracted.
Ho.
No, I am recover'd, I thanke my starres,
To know, and heartily abhorre such faces,
What come they hither for? dee' know 'em Madam?
I had no purpose they should be my guests
At this time, th'are court Ladies, I confesse,
Signior Valerio this was your plot.
Ual.
My pure intention, Madam, to doe you
Service, I knew they were not for his pallate,
These will inflame his appetite to you,
And set you off, meere foiles to you doe they
Looke as they were ambitious to be
Compar'd with you.
Fia.
Noble sir, although
I have not beautie like these Ladies.
Ho.
How? you ha' not beautie, take heed doe not shew
Your selfe unthankfull to wise nature, do not
They ha' not wealth enough in all their bodies
To purchase such a nose.
Mac.
Ha, ha.
Ho.
Ha, ha, good Madam Kickshaw,
That laugh to shew how many teeth you have.
Val.
Be not uncivill Sir.
Ho.
Why does that Fayrie grin then?
I'le justifie there is more worth, and beautie,
Consider'd wisely, and as it preserves
Man in his wits, and sence, than can be read
I'th volumne of their flattering Generations.
Good Madam looke a squint, a little more,
So, keepe but that cast with your eies, and tell me
Whose sight is best, hers that can see at once
More severall waies then there are points i'th Compasse,
Or theirs that lookes but point-blancke.
Mac.
A new way
To commend the eies.
Ho.
You thinke your fore-head pleases.
Whose top with frizled, and curld haire beset,
Appeares like a white cliffe, with reeds upon't;
Your nose, which like an Isthmus parts two Seas.
Aur.
Seas? you meane eies agen.
Ual.
What of their nose?
Ho.
Will be in danger, with continuall beating
Of waves, to wash the paint off, and in time
A silver bridge for praises to passe over.
Mac.
We'l barre your commendations.
Ho.
It sha' not need,
I doe not melt my wits to verse upon
Such subject, here's an instrument to smell with,
Tough as an Elephants trunke, and will hold water.
Val.
It has a comely length, and is well studded
With gems of price, the gold-smith wo'd bid money for't.
Aur.
Is he not mad?
Ho.
I can assure you no,
And by this token I would rather be
Condemn'd to'th Gallies, then be once in love
With either of your phisnomies.
Mac.
Is't possible?
Ho.
You may put your whole faith upon't.
Val.
Dee' beleeve him?
Madam.
Aur.
Methinkes this is the prettiest mirth,
You have a mighty wit, could you be angry
I love you for't.
Mac.
His humor takes me infinitely.
Ho.
It does, and you doe love me for't?
Mac.
Most strangely.
Ho.
I would you did, and heartily.
Mac.
What?
Ho.
Love me.
Mac.
So well, I could be happy in thy wife.
Ho.
Could Fate make me so miserable if I did not
In lesse than a sennight breake thy heart, shu'dst
Cuckold me at my owne perill.
Val.
This Lady has
A mightie estate.
Ho.
Tis all the fault she has,
Would she had none, had she no house, nor clothes,
Nor meanes to feed, yet I would sooner marry,
Observe, this naked salvage, then embrace
The fairest woman of the earth, with power
To make me Lord of Italy, I should alwayes
Val.
Her very face would keepe
Your bodie soluble.
Ho.
No feares compell me
To be a prisoner to my dining-roome,
I might hawke, hunt, and travell to both Indies.
Aur.
Give any Doctor leave to give her Phisicke.
Mac.
Or change of Ayre.
Val.
Save much in your owne diet,
Which else would call for Amber-greece, and rootes,
And stirring cullices.
Aur.
You might allow her
To visit Maskes and Playes.
Ual.
And the Bordellos,
I thinke she would be honest.
Ho.
And thats more
Then any Christian conscience dare assure
By oath on your behalfe—to be short Ladies,
Howe're you may interpret it my humour,
Mine's a Platonicke love, give me the soule,
I care not what course flesh, and blood in shrine it;
Preserve your beauties, this will feare no blasting:
I beg you call me servant.
Aur.
Did you heare him?
Fia.
You must acknowledge then I am your Mistresse.
Ho.
Ile weare your Perriwig for my Plume, and boast
More honour int, than to be minion
To all the Ladies of the Court, deere Mistresse
If you can love a man, jeere 'em a little.
Fia.
Faire Ladies will you in, and taste a banquet,
Be not discountenanc'd that this Gentleman
Is merrie with your beauties, the Spring lasts
Not all the yeare, when nature that commands
Our regiment will say, faces about,
We may bee in fashion, no controwling destiny.
Passion, who curld your haire? here wanteth powder,
Who is your Mercer, Madam? J would know
What your cheeke stands you in a weeke in Taffata?
Your face at distance shewes like spotted Ermine.
Or like a dish of white-broth strew'd with Curtains.
Fia.
Right servant, that was a more proper simily,
Discretion should ha put more ceruse here,
Your fucus was ill made, d'ee you not lie
In a maske all night, Madam.
Va.
Thou dost in a vizard
I will be sworne how the rude Gipsie triumphs.
Ho.
Enough, they now begin to swell, and sweate,
Let's leave 'em.
Exeunt.
Va.
What a Hecate was this?
Will you not be reveng'd?
Aur.
Yes, if we knew
By what convenient stratagem.
Va.
I have it,
There is another creature of my acquaintance,
If you have faith more monstrous then this beldam,
I will possesse her with this gentlemans humor,
And skrew her up to be this witches rivall, what thinke you of that?
Au.
Will it not make her mad?
Ma.
I wo'd goe a pilgrimage to see't, 'twill be
A mirth beyond the Beares.
Au.
Loose no time then.
Val.
I'le fit him with a female fury, such
As the Divell with a pitch-forke will not touch.
Come Madam.
Exit.
Enter Leontio, Euphemia.
Leo.
Have comfort Madam,
I prophecy your sufferings are short-liv'd.
Eup.
You meane I shall die shortly.
Leo.
We shall find
Lesse want of all the Starres, the aged World
May spare their light, while 'tis possest of yours,
Which once extinguish'd, let those golden fires
Quite burne themselves to ashes, in whose heape
Day may be lost, and frighted heaven weare blacke
Before the generall doome, have bolder thoughts,
And bid us all live in your onely safety.
Let not your fancy mocke the lost Euphemia?
Leo.
Let not the apprehension of your sorrow
Destroy your hope, should the Duke never wake
His sences steep'd in his adulterate lethargy,
You cannot want protection, nor your will
To be reveng'd, an arme to punish his
Contempt of so much beauty.
Eup.
How my Lord?
Leo.
What Scithian can behold an outrage done
Upon these eyes, and not melt his rough nature
In soft compassion to attend your teares?
Eup.
My Lord I know not with what words to thanke
Your feeling of my sufferings. I will now
Beleeve I am not lost to all the World;
You are noble, and I must be confident
These streames flow from your charity.
Leo.
Doe not injure
The unvalued wealth of your owne honour Madam,
Let poore deserts be worth our charity,
All sacrifice of greife for you is Justice,
And duty to the Alter of your merrit,
These drops are pale, and poorely speake my heart,
Which should dissolve into a purple flood,
And drowne this little Iland in your service,
Name some imployment that you may beleeve
With what true soule I honour you, oh Madam
If you could read the Volume of my heart,
You would find such a story of you there.
Eup.
Of me?
Leo.
Tis that keepes me alive, I have noe use
Of memory, or reason, but in both
To exercise devotion to your excellence.
Eup.
My Lord I understand you not.
Leo.
You are
More apprehensive if you wod but thinke so,
In vaine I still suppresse my darke thoughts Madam,
Which in their mutiny to be reveal'd
Have left a heape of ruines worth your pity.
Oh doe not hide that beauty should repaire
For I must say I love, although you kill
My ambition with a frowne, and with one angry
Lightning, shot from your eye, turne me to ashes.
Eup.
Good heaven!
Leo.
I know what you will urge against me,
You shannot need to arme your passion,
I will accuse my selfe, how much I have
Forgot the distance of one place beneath you,
And wounded my obedience, that I am
False to the Duke, the trust impos'd upon me,
And to his favor which have made me shine
A Starre, on whom the other emulous lights
Looke pale, and wast their envies, I confesse
I have not in the stocke of my desert
Enough to call one beauteous smile upon me,
My whole life is not worth your liberall patience,
Of one, one minute spent in prayer to serue it,
Yet after all wish'd destiny commands
The poore Leontio to love Euphemia.
Eup.
What doe I heare? consider sir, againe.
Le.
I have had contentions with my blood, & forc'd
Nature retire, and tremble with the guilt
Of her proud thoughts, seeking to make escape
Through some ungentle breach made by our conflict,
But noe prevailing against love, and fate,
Which both decree, me lost without your mercie.
Oh bid me live, who but in your acceptance
Shall grone away my breath, and whither till
I turne my owne sad monument.
Eup.
Noe more,
Ist possible new miseries should oretake
Euphemia? Oh my Lord! with what offence
Have I deserv'd, after my weight of sorrow,
Your wounds upon my honour? call agen
Your noble thoughts, and let me not reply
To your vnjust desires, if I must answer them,
Take my most fixt resolve, er'e I consent
To wrong Dionisio.
Stay.
Eup.
May I be blasted,
Though with contempt he looke upon me now,
His blood may cleare, and he returne to challenge
Euphemias piety, our vow was made
For life my Lord, and heaven shall sooner fall,
And mixing with the elements make new Chaos,
Then all mans violence, and wrath upon me
Betray one thought to breake it.
Leo.
Loose not all
Your peace at once, vouchsafe I may waite on you.
Eup.
I know my prison.
Leo.
Let me hope in this,
Enter Pallante.
My pardon seal'd Pallante?
Pall.
My good Lord.
Leo.
Your humble creature Madam, though the Duke
Confine your person, thinke upon your prisoner.
Exeunt Euphemia, and Pall.
Our vow was made for life, 'twas so how swift
An apprehension love has? but hee's Duke;
Conscience be waking, I shall lanch into
A Sea of blood els, steere my desperate soule
Diviner goodnes.
Enter Pallante agen.
How I start at shaddowes?
Love take me to thy charmes, and prosper me
Pallante thou art faithfull.
Pall.
To you my Lord,
May I be ever els condemn'd to an Hospitall.
Leo.
And darst assist to make me happy.
Pall.
Yes,
Though with the hazard of my throat-cutting,
I hope Sir, you suspect not, name an action
Though it looke nere so gastly, see how much
I'le tremble at it.
In thy eare.
Pall.
Once more—
Tough service i'th beginning, may I not thinke on't?
Leo.
Yes.
Pall.
And aske my selfe a question ere I answere.
Leo.
You may.
Pal.
At first dash kill the Duke, no lesse
To begin withall, how now Leontio?
Was there no other life but this, for saving
Of mine so often? he has trusted me,
To whom shall I turne traitor? pray my Lord,
Are you in earnest? would you have this done?
Leo.
Aske one, whom tyrannie hath chain'd to'th oare,
For ever forfeited to slaverie,
Whether he would not file off his owne bondage,
And in the blood of him that ownes the Gally
Swimme to his freedome.
Pall.
Doe you apprehend it
So necessary? why ile doe my poore endeavour,
Nay, tis but modest, if't concerne your Lordship
In that degree, ile doo't, you will have some
Convenient care of me, when tis dispatchd,
He scorn'd my valiant Buffe, I thought upon't,
You are the next in blood, when Dionisio
Visits the wormes.
Leo.
Thou giv'st me a new life,
With the same care ile cherish thee Pallante.
Pall.
And you doe not,
It is not the first conscience hath been cast
Away in a great mans service, cheere your heart Sir.
Leo.
It is not mine Pallante, I have lost
The use, and sway, tis to anothers growne,
And I have but the ruines of my owne.
Exeunt.
Finis Actus tertii.
| The Dvkes Mistris | |