 | The Fool Would be a Favourit : Or, the Discreet Lover |  |
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Actus quintus.
Enter the two Courtiers.2.
What, are our Comedians ready?
1.
Yes, yes.
1.
That's well; the Princesse does walk presently,
and comming in unlook'd for, 't will please her the better.
It's fine Poetry, is't not?
1.
Onely faulty, if not foolish enough; a quarter of
an houres work, when 'twas done; and yet I have studied
a long time; and can finde nothing more ridiculous,
2.
Is there no prologue?
1.
No, there's too few Actors.—Here's the Princesse.
They have their cue, they'l enter sure.
Enter Aurelia and Miranthe.
Aur.
How now, what strange hob-goblin's this?
Enter Man.
Man.
Love, that intoxicates the brains of mortals, where there is any,
Here inhabits none to be intoxicated, 'tis well known.
Not Sisiphus, that restlesse rowles the stone still,
Takes more delight, then I do in my own fill.
Enter Gudgen like a Lady.
My Phillida, lo where she does appear,
More humble then a Peacock, or his peer,
The Turky, who with her bristling plumes,
Confounds my sense, and my poor heart consumes.
Oh gods. Oh most glittering Wight,
Thou workst upon me, I had need go write.
My passion, 'tis not a stumbling tongue,
That can expresse the love I bear thy bung.
Y. G.
Kisse where thou lov'st, I thee pray, even here;
Nothing I have too pretious for my dear.
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I Venus fair or chast; go too, go too.
Man.
Is Venus like to thee, thou durty sow?
No, thou art like unto our brended Cow:
But yet I fear she will prove wilder far,
Thou art incenst, thy goblin eyes make war.
Y. G.
Puh let me go, these come not from your heart;
Too late I finde you play the Courtiers part.
Man.
May all the joyes of earth confound me, I,
Have dyed thy love, and live I will perdy.
Y. G.
Oh perjur'd man, see where she comes you wot of,
Betwixt you surely I am made a sot of.
Enter a Wench.
Wen.
Sir, I am come to visit you, and your fair Mistress.
Man.
Most odoriferous Lady, you are offensibly welcome;
for you have done me a most desperate and intolerable
favour; my Mistresse does with me, I know,
congratulate the mischiefe.
Wench.
Sir, I am a simple wench, that understand nothing
beyond sense.
Man.
I am sorry for it, yet I will descend to your
understanding, and speak none; or very little, hereafter.
Wen.
It will become your person.
Y. G.
Hark how she woes my dear: Oh, I am lost
I fear.
Wen.
Lady, you are sad, and much I wonder, being
so happy in your servant.
Y. G.
Damosell, you are unkinde, your scorns are
scurvy, and become you not.
Man.
Oh thou art such a pretty wench, I could wish
my selfe a gib Cat, and we two together in the dark.
Y. G.
Ah me! he's lost. Sir, you forget me, your
Phillida.
Man.
Thee? I do contemn the thought of such a
dowdie.
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Ah me, then let me die; thou constant wretch,
maist thou sink down to blisse; but shall I curse, whom
I have loved more, then my best Cow Mull: Oh no.
Come death and end my woe. But what shall finish my
unhappy daies? this knife, this shall afford me passage
to the shades below, where I will try by dying thus my
love to show, and fill his hard heartfull of dismall wo.
Man.
Alas good fool.
Wen.
Will you not save her?
Y. G.
Now I am dead, dost thou not grieve, thou cruell elfe,
If I had known, I had not kill'd my selfe.
Now I am stark dead, pray tell him so.
Man.
Would thou wert buried, thou'lt ne're leave
talking else.
Aur.
Miranthe, this is so wofull a story, I'le hear no
more, make my excuse to the dead Lady, when she
revives.
Exeunt Aur. and Miran.
Man.
Master, Master, rise, rise.
Y. G.
That's not my cue, he's out.
Man.
The Princesse is gone.
Y. G.
Gone is not my cue neither.
Man.
The play is done.
Y. G.
Thou lyest, I must be kis'd first; I wil I not open
mine eyes till I be kis'd.
Man.
What a coile's here, I could finde in my heart,
now his eyes are shut, to undo my points, and give him
his cue. Sir, Master. I think hee's a verier asse then my
selfe, there let him lie, for me, I'le follow for a reward.
Exit.
Y. G.
Is he gone, had I no place about me worthy his kisse?
Then let me wake from death. Why this it is,
Since when I courted him, he would not come,
My Ghost shall haunt him, till he kisse my hum, hum.
Exit.
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Aur.
This is the day, and this the place, that Philanthus
Intends to present himself as the stranger Knight,
To receive what punishment I shall inflict,
Where I will make him jealous of himselfe.
Mir.
Why will you so torment him, since you confesse you love him.
Aur.
Still to draw greater proofes of his affection, in which I glory.
Mir.
Take heed, whilst that you use him thus, you do not
Lessen what you would make greater, his love.
Were I man and in his place, I should have hated
You, for you in reason have appeared unworthy,
And inconstant, which how his generous spirit
May brook, who knowes.
Aur.
Púh these are needlesse fears, see where he comes,
The same armes he wore, when he o'recame Adrastus;
A coldnesse strikes my heart at fight of him.
Enter the Moor as Philanthus.
Moor.
If you be the Princesse Aurelia, I was enjoyn'd
Thus low to bend my knee, lower my heart,
In my submission to your offended deity.
Aur.
Yes, Sir, I am, and you I take to be the most
Discourteous Knight alive.
Moor.
Madam, I have already paid for that offence,
The forfeit of my honour, if not to be recovered,
By faithfully performing what I was enjoyn'd,
Rather commanded, by your Philanthus, for such
How e're you prise him, he desires to be esteem'd.
Aur.
How well he counterfeits anothers voice.
Moor.
By a strange accident he met me, and when
Perswasion would not move me, for I had a desire
Another way, he did employ his not to be resisted valour,
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Here to present my selfe, and willingly receive
What punishment your rigour can inflict.
Aur.
What censure do you expect?
Moor.
Death, for I do believe you the most cruell Lady living.
Aur.
Why do you think so?
Moor.
Your rigour to Philanthus, who partly mad:
Me know his story, made me suspect; yet still
He loves you, more then his own soul. But your
Unjust hatred against me, gives me assurance,
Of your cruell nature.
Aur.
Perhaps I did but seem to hate you, you see I am unarm'd
For punishment, none but my selfe, and one weak woman more.
But you are bound by oath to endure what ere
I shall inflict; I'le try him fully.
Moor.
I am, and wish to know my sentence.
Aur.
With your own sword I will perform it.
Moor.
Alas, you have not strength to take my life, were I unarm'd.
Aur.
Rather no will, you are not noble that would thus,
T'the danger of your life, perform your promise.
Receive your sword, and know, I am so far
From hate, that I did love you, for the great respect
You shew'd me, though I seem'd otherwise.
But you retiring, and to me unknown,
Bar'd me from means to thank you, or let you know,
How much I lik'd your valour, which sure by Philanthus
Could not be exceeded; I rather take it as a courteous act
From you to him, he hoping the performance
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Which is now impossible; yet, I did much affect him,
Till his boasting did beget my hatred.
But trust me, in his sending you, how e're,
I thank him he hath much prejudic'd himselfe.
There is no honour that this Court can do you,
Which boldly you may not promise to your selfe.
Nor would I have you think I am unconstant,
For I have still profest to love, where I did find
Most worth, untill I were confin'd by Marriage.
Moor.
Madam, however some will censure this your humour,
To me it does appear the best. I honour you,
And shall believe my selfe the happiest creature
Living, in this your good opinion.
Aur.
Longer, Sir, I will not hold you, but when you please
To visit me at Court, theres no assurance
Of my affection, that I shall refuse.
Which honour will permit me to bestow.
Moor.
I, make me in my own opinion the mark of envy,
To the most happy living. Besides, thus on your hand,
I seal my lasting service.
Exit.
Mir.
Madam, what's your designe in this, to give Philanthus,
As a stranger, so large assurances of your affection,
And yet make him think, you hate him as he is himself.
Enter the second Courtiers.
2.
Ah! Madam, the most unfortunate accident.
Aur.
How! what? thou frightest me, speak.
2.
The Prince your brother.
Aur.
What of him?
2.
Hath kill'd his dearest friend, noble Philanthus.
Aur.
'Tis impossible, I know the contrary.
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Oh, Madam, 'tis too true, your brothers sorrow is a witnesse of it;
The Court is drown'd in tears, and justly,
It never felt a greater losse.
Aur.
I have abused my self then, made vowes and protestations
To I know not whom; the voice indeed was different.
But is this certain truth? were ye a witnesse?
But how, or why, or when? I am amazed
With wonder and sorrow. Speak.
2.
'Tis so certain, that your brother would have kil'd himself,
Had he not been prevented.
Aur.
He had done well, 'tis fit we all should die;
For who would live after Philanthus.
Exeunt.
Enter Lucinda.
Luc.
You Gods, was't not sufficient misery for me
To love a man, whom I had never seen before?
His heart given to another, or ere he knew me?
But that you afterwards must raise me to the happiness
Of his affection, and then thus violently pull
Him from me. Why should you thus oppose your strongest powers
Against a silly woman. But, love, I know it is thy malice,
That did invite the cruell destinies to cut
The fine spun thread of dear Philanthus, and cruelly
Lengthen mine. You powers, it is enough; for you have humbled
My proud heart low as the earth. Seek out some other,
That hath not felt your scourges, I confesse
Your power, and am obedient too. But why should I
Begin to flatter unjust heaven, within whose power
It does not lie to pleasure me. Philanthus gone,
Whose name I'le reverence more in their despight,
Then all the envious deities, that took him from me.
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Phil.
Impious, cruell, and forgetfull woman, thy sacrilegious
Thoughts and words, I see, have been the causes,
That have stopt my passage to the Elizium fields,
Forcing me thus wandring to stay above the earth,
To feel torments above neglect in love;
Nay, equall to those hellish pangs, bred from the thoughts
Of a much lov'd inconstant Mistress. But I'le revenge
My selfe, by haunting thee perpetually.
Aur.
Oh thou dear ghost, such a revenge were sweet,
I should desire to look upon thee ever.
After I had thee, thou wert soon lost, I was not satisfied.
Let me if possible embrace thee, at least
Converse with thee for ever thus.
Phil.
I see you have forgot my last request.
Think on the Prince, in whom I live; this way ye cross
The ordinance of heaven, who never failes
To punish disobedience, from me. If you
Be slack in loving him, my ghost shall never rest
In peace; and when I next appear, a thousand furies
Will come along, and in your sight torment me,
Past what a mortall can imagin, if not for love
Of him, for love of me. Be pittifull, and free me
From an endless misery. Go to my Tomb,
Where daily you shall finde him weeping:
There make an offer of your selfe, in recompence
Of all his sufferings; this done, you may be happy.
But if refus'd, the height of misery will fall upon you,
To me, perpetuall torment; remember,
On me perpetuall torment.
Luc.
Stay, stay, and hear me.
Phil.
My time is past, remember lasting torment.
[Ex.
Luc.
'Tis vanish'd, cruell ghost, that dost conjure me,
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They do not love at all, that can love twice.
'Tis to me impossible, which if I do it not, I shall be miserable.
And in doing it, I shall be so too then 'tis indifferent:
Oh no, I shall release from misery,
And happy make the ghost of Philanthus;
That thought alone o'recomes me.
(Recorders)
Strange friendship when the ghost of him that's dead,
Shall for the living with such reason's plead.
Exit.
Enter the two Courtiers.
1.
Where is the Prince? is he yet so transported with sorrow?
2.
I ne're saw man so torment himselfe. 'Tis true, Philanthus
Deserv'd to have as many tears shed for him,
As any Prince that liv'd, but yet, that being past,
And sorrow fruitlesse, me-thinks the sorrow should grow lesse.
1.
If it be possible, it does receive increase.
Some say, the Princesse Aurelia bears a part too.
2.
Wheres the old Duke? followed his children to the Tomb
Of Philanthus: Never such a sorrow seen in Millain.
1.
In duty we are bound to wait upon them,
Both with our persons and our sorrow.
Exeunt.
Enter Agenor.
Age.
Me-thinks this sacred ground, that does contain
The body of my friend should open it self,
And give me leave once more to embrace him,
If his dear ghost be 'concil'd; and if it hate me,
Why should not then the earth, in friendship
To its now inhabitants, gape wide and swallow me
Alive, for my base act? How often have the gods
Made even the insensible elements, the executioners
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Hatefull one was never performed: murder'd my friend,
Oh base! and such a friend, that even in death
Exprest himselfe above my malice. The wound
This sword hath made in his noble & undefenc'd breast
Was only like a vent to a full vessell,
That so the stream of his unequall love might finde
The freeer passage. Why should I live then, to be the hatefull,
And contemn'd example of ingratitude, to all posterity?
And I will daily sacrifice my sorrowes and my tears
Upon his Tombe, 'twill not serve. Were I a woman,
Water might wash my guilt off; but as I am a man,
A manly sacrifice must expiate my fault.
Blood must be satisfied with blood. Philanthus,
Receive this sacrifice, I will revenge the murder.
Enter the two Courtiers.
1.
Deer my Lord, what would ye do?
Age.
Nothing, why do ye hinder?
Who made you my controulers?
2.
Heaven forbid, that we should suffer you.
Age.
For friendship sake, give me my sword, why should you
Keep me here to torment me? in death I should find ease.
If any of you had a minde to die, and knew 'twould be for your content,
Think you I would be so discourteous to disturb you?
You need not hold me, you may give me freedom,
Now I have no weapon, you cannot hinder me to weep
These cursed eyes out; by whose false lights,
false to my soul, came in that beauty of Lucinda,
Whose violence working by jealousie, forced me
To murder my dearest dearest friend. Pardon love,
I have blasphem'd against thy deity, for which I know,
His Ghost will hate me more then for his wounds.
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Aur.
Hence hypocrite, dost thou not fear his wounds
Should ope themselves, and blead his searcloath
At thy approach.
Age.
Sister, you cannot pronounce words half so harsh through,
As I deserve, nor tax me with a guilt so great,
But I'le acknowledge more, but not the same
Which you accuse me of: For, were the sorrow
Of the world joyn'd in one for Philanthus,
Mine might be thought a worthy rivall,
Nay, exceed that far.
Aur.
Oh Philanthus.
Age.
But sister, you, why you, why do you seem to grieve
Thus, that in his life shewed such contempt?
Aur.
Oh brother, brother, seeking to deceive and blinde the world,
I have ruin'd and undone my selfe, the heavens
Are witnesses, that Philanthus to me was more
Then father, you, and all the world. Then give me
Leave alone to grieve, since all griefes else are
but like drops to the vast Ocean.
Age.
Sister, the Ocean hath his bounds, though large,
But my sorrow, like to his love, for whom I grieve,
Must be beyond all limits, but his desert,
The cause of my affliction.
Aur.
Philanthus, Philanthus. But what are words, or sighes, or tears,
But weak expressions? let a dead silence rather show,
They grieve not much, that can expresse their woe.
Enter Duke.
1.
Sir, your father.
Age.
Here, here.
1.
Madam, the Duke.
Aur.
Lov'd Philanthus, I know he did, and so did I,
Though I dissembled, dearly I loved him; if there be charity
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By kissing his pale lips, that I did love him,
More then he did me; his spirit's already
Satisfied, I know, else it would haunt me.
Enter Lucinda.
Luc.
You twins of sorrow, that strive with eagernesse,
Which should be thought the truest mourner, make room
For one, whose actions have in point of love,
Outgone your airie words.
Age.
I know that voice, Lucinda.
Luc.
For which of you, after the killing of a much lov'd brother,
For then I thought Adrastus dead, became
Enamoured of his murderer, as I did of Philanthus?
Or which of you forsook your honours, or your state,
Becomming like to me, a stragling Gipsie,
Forced to it, by a greater feeling of his merit,
Than ever touched your heart, pursuing him
In that disguise, even when to hope the least requitall
Had been madnesse? and yet I must give proof
Beyond all these, when I have offered some
Few tears upon his Tombe.
Aur.
Lucinda, for such I know your name is, how would it vex me,
To hear you boast your love thus of Philanthus,
Were he alive; and yet I should have gloried much,
To be by him preferred before so excellent a Lady
As your selfe: But since unkind brother,
But worse friend, hath by his rash hand, inrich'd
The Tombe, with what we both should strive for, let joyne
In sorrow, and from our mournfull eyes by turnes,
Drop tears, till by continuall motion, this hard
And unkinde Marble, may yield us passage to him,
Which it now denies.
And so at last we by our tears shall gain,
What now by prayers we cannot obtain.
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My dear children, why do you yield to sorrow thus,
Where there's no hope of remedy? I am a partner
In your griefe; you know that Philanthus was as
Dear to me as any; but since I know I cannot
Raise him to life by weeping, why should I
Shew my self a child, and mourn in vain?
Enter Adrastus.
Adr.
How, my Sister here, and mourning o're the Tomb
Of Philanthus, 'tis impossible, she never saw him.
Age.
You are deceived, Sir, be your own witnesse.
Adr.
'Tis she. Degenerate from my blood, weep for mine
Enemy. Save you, Lady.
Luc.
Brother, I know you wonder much to see me here;
But more, that I lament thus for a man,
Which you believe I knew not.
Adr.
I do, I see the great love that you profest to me,
Was wholly counterfeit.
Luc.
Rather your vertues, brother, are not what I thought 'm:
But love however's my excuse.
Age.
Oh Philanthus!
Luc.
Ha! me-thought the spirit of Philanthus spoke from his Tomb,
Chiding my slackness in performing his will; did it not, Sir?
Age.
Not that I heard.
Luc.
His ghost appeared to me in dead of night,
And cruelly commanded me thus to present my self
Before his Tomb, a gift unto the Prince Agenor,
From his dead friend.
Age.
How! do you mock me?
Luc.
Which, though unwillingly, I here perform,
Much more to satisfie my promise to his ghost,
Than to requite your love; and yet, noble
Sorrow may be accounted merit.
Age.
Strange ghost!
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How?
Age.
Madam, till now, my thoughts were in the grave with Philanthus,
His spirit it seemes, knowing my hearty sorrow and repentance
Labour'd to make me happy in your love:
And I receive you with a joy above
What any tongue is able to expresse.
Adr.
This makes for my advantage, and is it possible,
Aurelia may return to love me, Philanthus
Being dead. Who's here, the Knight that fought with me?
These Armes are ominous.
Enter Philanthus and the Moor.
Duk.
Come from the Tomb, Agenor, leave this sorrow.
Age.
Sir, I'le obey you for this time; but after, daily offer up
Tears of joy and sorrow, in which Scene I still
Must be an actor.
Duk.
Aurelia, be not wilfull.
Aur.
Thus all forsake me, no companions in my sorrow left,
And I do glory in it.
Phil.
Sir, by your gratious favour: Lady, why weep you thus?
Aur.
Ha! what are you so ignorant, that does not know the cause?
Phil.
Do you know me then, the large expression that
You made me of your respects, I might say love,
Made me believe, I should not be so soon forgot.
Aur.
Pardon me, Sir, I took you for this Knight then, for whom I now
Weep, whose body lies here in this Tomb, from whence
I do not mean to part; pray leave me, Sir. How got
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Phil.
Lady, you grieve for one, does not deserve this sorrow;
Behold in me a worthier servant, who now am come to claim
Performance of your so large promises. Point not to that,
I beat him whilst he lived, and from him took these Armes.
Age.
Traitor Knight, thou liest; no, thou didst rather
Play the thiefe, and steal them, which I will
Make thee confesse, else offer thee a
Sacrifice upon his Tombe.
Phil.
In these Armes I overcame Adrastus.
Age.
Thou liest, and shalt not live to injure thus
The dead; know, 'twas Philanthus by all the gods,
And this is.
Phil.
Philanthus, your servant.
[discovers himself.
Age.
Ha! is't possible.
Phil.
Be not amazed, but trust your eyes.
Age.
How can this be?
Phil.
You being wilfull and enraged, I rather
Ventured to receive one wound, and so seem slain,
Than in your death to lose a friend, a Mistresse,
And my own life too; but life would have bin hatefull
After your loss, if I could have preserv'd it.
Moor.
But mark his love, while his wounds yet bled;
(For to my charge, you know, you did commit
The body) He studied to make you happy
In my Ladie's love, which was effected, by playing
His own ghost, whilst I did in his Armes,
With you supply his place; how easie 'twas
To cosen you, and those you sent, by filling
The Coffin with some trash, having my brother
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For my part, I was glad to raise my Mistresse to a greater
At least, if not a better fortune in
The Princes love.
Age.
Madam, I hope you will not make his labour fruitless.
Luc.
It were in vain to cross the will of heaven, which seemes
To have ordained Philanthus for your worthier sister.
Phil.
It lay not in my power till now, by reason of my wounds,
To keep my promise truly; but now, behold
Me ready to receive.
Aur.
Me, as a recompence for all your sufferings; no other punishment.
Age.
Sir, we are joyn'd, and do mean to grow together,
If you do not severe us.
Duk.
Enjoy your wishes both. Adrastus,
For your sisters sake I wish your friendship.
Adr.
Pardon the faults that grew from love to Aurelia,
And I shall study your advancement.
Luc.
Brother, be better then you have been.
Adr.
Which to begin, I give my selfe again
A servant to fair Miranthe, whose love, I know,
Not malice, cross'd me in my love to Aurelia.
Mir.
I'le none, I thank you;
You that forsook me, aiming at a greater
Now offer'd I refuse, hoping a better.
Enter old Gudgen and young Gudgen.
Y. G.
Old man, I say to thee, be proud, and
eke rejoyce, to see thy hopefull son salute the Duke in
triumph, and by him resaluted like to an Emperator.
Duk.
Away rididulous asse.
Y. G.
Did not I tell you?
Duk.
Get you into the Country to your sheep and
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here your Favouritship is growne stale; the Court is
not so barren, but it brings forth daily some new humour,
which at first is pleasant, but after, like to
yours, grows tedious.
O. G.
Why, son, is this your gracing?
Y. G.
The envy of some Politick hath done this.
Duk.
See all things straight prepared to solemnize
The happy marriages of these, in whom,
Friendship and love strove for a name;
Florish.
In you love, in you friendship overcame.
Exeunt.
O. G.
Come, son, come, after the loss of all our mony,
let's e'ne go home, and be wiser once, never too old to
learn.
Y. G.
I Father, but I am too young yet. Well, I will
be a favourit for all this; I, so it shall be. Gentlemen, I
mean to make a petition to the Duke, which I must
intreat you to set your hand to, being the best judges
of my ability; and thus it is:
Yet I may be the chiefe fool-Favourit.
FINIS.
| The Fool Would be a Favourit : Or, the Discreet Lover | |