 | The Fool Would be a Favourit : Or, the Discreet Lover |  |
32
Actus tertius.
Enter Lucinda and Linda.Luc.
Lighted that arm'd Knight that rid so fast by, at that little house?
Lin.
Hee did Maddam, this fine day hath tempt you
To walke further then you think: they say there's often
Robberies done in this wood.
Luc.
Alas poor wench art afraid.
Enter Adrastus, Friends.
Luc.
What are these that make this haste.
Oh Maddam, theeves I feare.
1.
Saw you a Knight ride by here, dear Lady ist you?
Luc.
Well met sir, yes I saw him, how does my brother?
Oh speak, I long to know, I dreamt of him to night.
1.
Maddam I fear your brother is no more.
Luc.
Ha? dead? Oh speak it not, for I shall bear him companie.
1.
Rather shew us which way that Knight went, the Author of his death.
That so we may revenge his murther.
Luc.
Oh heavens, murder'd? yet you are just ye powers
That makes me thus the instrument of his revenge.
I will not wash this hand kercher in womanish teares,
But first in the murderers blood, then clense it againe
With tears for my dear Brother.
2.
But Maddam, which way went he?
Luc.
Ile bring you where you cannot misse him, tis
Not long since I saw him enter a little house.
As we came walking hither.
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Wom.
Now his wounds are drest, hee sleeps soundly.
Man.
Alas good gentleman, he takes our poore entertainment kindly.
He said at first he would come hither when he went to fight.
Wom.
I wonder his man that drest him, staies so long.
Enter Lucinda, Linda, and friends.
'Tis not far to the next Town.
O Man.
What are these? theeves?
1.
Stop their mouths, he sleeps, shall I strike him dead?
Luc.
No let me see the Murderer first, sure he looks ugly.
You need not kill him, let the law seise on him.
2.
Maddam I would not have him wake, hee's stout.
'Twil not be in our powers to compell him.
By all the gods, 'tis Philanthus, but he shall die.
Luc.
Stay—it must be by my hand, no other.
I am most injur'd, and so most interested in the revenge.
1.
Alas you are not able.
Luc.
Leave it to me, or else by all that's sacred:
Ile lay you open to the Law give me your Dagger:
Retire and leave me.
1.
Alas Maddam you.
Luc.
Are you such fooles, not to be content
To have a dangerous enterprise effected, and your selves
Freed from danger of the Law, none will suspect me.
2.
Maddam, if he should wake.
Luc.
Stay you without, and if you hear me call
For help: come in, not, otherwise.
1.
We dare not disobey you, her own great spirit
And the much love she beares her brother, makes her,
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1.
But we shall lose your thanks, since she performs it.
2.
Not a whit, he shall not know it for us, how ere
Shee's a witness of our zeal to doo't; and we are free
From danger of the Law, if ever the deed be known.
Enter Lucinda.
Luc.
'Tis done, away, he welters in his blood, lean all to me.
2.
But what for these?
Luc.
Fie, no, 'tis unnecessary, by giving Gold,
Ile make them speechless ever, but now I better
Think, beare them into some wood and bind them
But hurt them not.
1.
Maddam, 'tis possible, your brother may not yet be dead.
How ere this act will please him much.
Lu.
Not dead? this may be malice, then if it be known,
I'le Justifie the Act, if not the thanks and recompence.
Be you from him. Ile send, and know the truth of all.
Lin.
Oh Maddam I never thought you could have done a wickednesse like this.
The wounds which you have given will strike
Your own soul deep one day.
Lin.
Oh fool the wounds I have received are far more dangerous,
Then those that I have given.
Lin.
Maddam your own hand's cutt.
Luc.
'Tis so, all the blood thou seest came only from thence.
Let me with better leasure looke on what I have preserv'd.
His travell makes him sleep sound.
Lin.
Madam, how blest were you to change your cruel resolution.
Some Angell prompted you to save him from those
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Luc.
There was no other way; but the good angell
That prompted me, was Love; 'twas strange I should
Be taken by a sleeping man, that have from all eyes
That have seen me, almost banished sleep,
To think upon my beauty, which must be now
My part for him; for, I have lost my selfe
By saving him, since I am sister to his enemy.
Yet, he may love like me, when he intends revenge:
But shall I be so lovely when I sleep, and he behold
Some stand ready to murder me, so making
Pitty usher love into his heart, as into mine?
For all waies else have been before attempted
To make me amorous, none prevailed: Oh no,
It cannot be, he stirrs, away.
I must do something,
What, I cannot tell:
Who loves, and dares not say, he lives in hell.
[Exeunt.
Enter Aurelia and Miranthe.
Aur.
Miranthe, have you known valour, and so little courtesie,
meet in the person of one man so fully,
As in this Knight that overcame Adrastus?
Mir.
Madam, his valour did appear to all,
But wherein he behaved himselfe discourteously,
I am yet to learn.
Aur.
What Knight but he, would have refused to stay
Their Combat, when I, a Princesse,
Not to be contemn'd, besought him?
Mir.
Oh, Madam, how unjust you are, since you accuse him
In that, wherein you ought to thank him?
You saw, when through your fear you fell, he turn'd
To take you up, by which he did receive
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Adrastus; and if he had given o're the Combat
Afterward, when you desired, his enterprise
Had been most vain from the beginning:
Adrastus had not then confest, that you or any
Might have heard, the lies he had invented.
But Philanthus is most unfortunate, to have
His best deservings still misinterpreted.
Aur.
How! was't Philanthus that fought? me thought indeed,
The voice was his, but he being thought so far off,
Kept me from being certain.
Mir.
It scap'd my tongue before I was aware,
Now I must make it good. Yes, Madam, it was Philanthus,
To whom I did give notice in a Letter,
How much Adrastus injured you and him,
By saying, Philanthus boasted of the great love
You bare him, in every place, and that you partly did
Believe, he spake but truth, which was the cause
Of your displeasure.
Aur.
Is't then Philanthus hath done me this displeasure?
Durst he put my honour on the hazzard of fortune?
Durst he capitulate and make conditions,
When I did beg Adrastus life? am I so miserable,
That I was gladder to receive, then he to give
What I did ask?
Mir.
Oh poor Philanthus, how happy art thou, if the wound
Thou didst receave, helping her up, have freed
Thee from those greater torments, which her cruelty
Prepares, in recompence of all thy faithfull services.
But, Madam, when I think on't, did not you say,
He was to right himselfe with his sword, if he knew
No other remedy; and with more secrecy, or more
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Thinking Philanthus to be far hence,
Even when he drew their eyes to wonder at his valour.
Aur.
Peace, no more of him, you praise him without cause.
Mir.
Without cause?
When as his death, caus'd by your cruelty,
More then his wounds, shall make the world know,
'Twas he that overcame Adrastus, and for your sake,
As well as for his own. How will the vertuous
People tax you, of your great injustice?
Aur.
I must confesse, I should be very sorry his death
Should give the world a knowledge of my follies.
Mir.
Be not you cruell to him, and prevent it.
Aur.
Nay, let him love himself, and save me a labour.
Mir.
Madam, he cannot love that, which he thinks you hate.
Aur.
Hee's neither worthy of my hate nor love.
Mir.
Madam, 'tis impossible there should be that indifferency
Towards Philanthes, whom you must either love,
Or hate extreamly.
Enter Agenor.
Aur.
Well then, I do not hate him, my brother; upon your life
Let him not know, that I do know the stranger was
Philanthus. Miranthe, seek not to excuse him, hee's a most
Discourteous Knight, and I do hate him deadly.
Age.
Who's that shee speaks of?
Mir.
The stranger-Knight.
Age.
Believe me, sister, you had no reason.
Aur.
Well, Sir, I know mine own reasons best.
Age.
But, sister, when you hear mine, which are stronger,
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Aur.
You may as soon perswade the fixed Starrs
To move, as me from my opinion. 'Twas sure
Some inchantment that overcame Adrastus.
Age.
Then you'l abandon reason quite, this truely showes,
You women think your foes your friends, your friends your foes.
Exeunt.
Enter Philanthus, and Lucinda's Servants.
Phil.
Villains, for what respect is't, that you do preserve
Me longer to torment me? why did you not rather
Kill me, when you found me steeping first?
Ser.
'Twas not in our commission, you are reserved to feel
A thousand torments, to which death is a pleasure.
Phil.
From what person living have I deserved such usage?
Ser.
I'le let you know your misery, the more to torment you.
Know, that we are servants to a Lady, the most malitious
And deformed, that ever lived; so great
An enemy to vertue, that 'tis her onely study
To destroy those men in whom it doth inhabit.
Her vigilancy for mischiefe is ever busie.
It seemes she hath found you out to wreak her spight upon,
Intending here to keep you ever, except she shall
Prove mercifull, and kill you.
Phil.
If her hate to me onely proceed from a beliefe,
That I am vertuous, it seems she knowes me not,
I am not such. But if thou beest a gentle villain,
Tell me, where I am.
Ser.
Far from the house, in which we found you fleeding,
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Beheld, if eyes can be of use in so much darknesse;
Your chiefest companions must be Toads, Snakes,
And Froggs, except two villains sometimes, as now, ready stand,
To Inflict torments, that cannot be exprest.
Phil.
Oh that I could but see, and were unloos'd, that with my fist
I might reward thee for this kinde relation.
Ser.
Screech Owles and Ravens, shall fill thy ears continually
With dismall sounds. Hark.
Recorders.
Phil.
Sure some power, pittying the misery that I must suffer,
Gives me this farewell to all happinesse.
Ser.
Now begins your torments, but that they may be more
Sensible, let him see him his misery.
[they unvail him.
Phil.
Amazment seizes me, is this a loathed Prison?
Or this the harsh and dismall notes of wicked birds?
Or look these men as they would stab, rather adore me.
What do I fool my selfe, this is a dream.
I am sure asleep.
Ser.
Propose your wishes, and we are ready to effect them,
As far as lies in human power.
Phil.
This is no dream, I am awake, this is my hand,
And these my hairs, I feel pain, now I pull them.
Sure 'tis a vision, or worse inchantment; the wicked Mistresse
Of this house, to all her other ills, is certainly a witch.
Enter Lucinda.
I am confirmed 'tis so, for here she comes,
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Gently does she look upon me, than she did at our parting.
Luc.
Sir, you are welcome, if there be defect in any thing,
It comes from negligence of servants, not from my will.
A valiant Knight, and flie thus from a Lady!
Phil.
What should I fear, she cannot hurt my mind
With all her art, how ere she may my person.
Besides, shee'l change her form, and look before she do me ill.
This shape can nought produce, that can offend.
Luc.
Pray you sir, sit.
Phil.
I will.
Luc.
Not so far off, if you please.
Phil.
You think I fear.
Luc.
No, Sir; but I perceive, you are not confident of what you see.
Sir, recollect your self; for what you heard
Before from these, was but what I directed,
With an intent indeed, to set off, as with a foil,
This mean but hearty entertainment.
Phil.
I dare not trust you, you speak too well,
To mean well, since I am a stranger,
And no way have deserved these favours.
Ser.
My Lady, Sir, hath told you truth.
Luc.
Save your pains, leave us, I'le clear his understanding.
Exeunt Servants.
Phil.
The danger now approches, if she be a witch.
Wickednesse desires no witnesse.
Luc.
Sir, if ere you lov'd, which yet I wish you had not
Then the discourse I am to make, will with more ease
Approach your understanding, and soon gain belief.
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The Servants and the stuff here are not borrowed,
Nor will it hurt my state thus daily to entertain
Such, as I make my friends; and such my birth is,
As bids me live thus without tax of pride.
I am mine own disposer, no Parents to blame
My disobedience, though my choice should only
Please my selfe: They live not, or if they did,
My fortune was not wholly left by them.
Phil.
You are in a happy state, since you have power
To make some noble spirit fortunate, and you in him.
Sure she is really what she relates.
Luc.
I might have been most happy, if my unlucky Starrs
Had not in one particular crost me.
Phil.
Your courtesie obliges me, to ask you wherein?
I vow she weeps, the tears, like Orientall Pearls,
Drop from her eyes making a path down
Her most lovely cheeks, that may direct the looker on,
If lost in wonder, as I am, to finde the way
Back to those heavenly springs, from whence all treasure
Flowes, rich above Tagus, or what poets ever fain'd
Speak, gentle Lady, why this sorrow?
Luc.
They are not tears of sorrow, but of anger,
To see my liberty thus lost, that liberty,
Which I have so much prised, as some have thought
There was just cause to think me proud, and then to lay
My selfe and all my fortunes, even at mine enemies feet.
Oh misery, have I not cause, think you, to weep,
And curse my cruell Stars, that force me to do this?
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I must confesse, 'tis a hard fate for to be subject
To ones enemy: But sure your merits have the power to turn
That enmity to friendship, if you please.
Be plain, and let me know your meaning;
And, with the hazard of my life, I'le serve you.
Luc.
Then thus: I hated you above all creature living,
The cause seek not to know, for 'tis impossible; nay came
With an intent to see you murder'd; but when I saw you,
Though you then slept, the graces all, me-thought,
Dwelt in you face, and so protected you from harm;
That I that came with all that malice, became
Your sole preserver, and not content with that, streight way
I made you absolute commander of me and mine.
Phil.
You amaze me.
Luc.
But not intending that you e're should know me,
Nor the place of my abode, if you return'd not love,
I made my servants bring you thus blind fold
Hither, left you might boast my love hereafter.
Phil.
Madam, 'tis a most strange discourse that you have made,
And yet you so deliver it, that I must think it
Truth; but what to answer, I am ignorant.
'Tis best I should be plain, since you desire to be so.
Then must you know, that my unhappy Starrs
Make me uncapable to receive the unequall treasure,
Which you offer in your rich selfe. A Lady, like your selfe,
To say more fair, were false, hath long since rob'd
Me of the power, to be my own disposer.
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I fear'd indeed, that so much worth as you are Master of,
Could not be undispos'd of, since where's that woman
Would not use her utmost art, to gain a servant,
That she might so justly glory in. I desire to know
Her name yet, that I may pay her beauty and her wisdome,
That respect it merits, for loving you.
Phil.
Madam, I must not; but, trust me, shee's too wise to love
Me still, for she hath found me now of late, much 'much
Defective; but I do hope, my constancy will
Make supply; for, I vow, my affection and my life have
But one date.
Luc.
Say you so, this protestation hath much lessened
The opinion I held of your worth: Perhaps you say
This, to avoid my importunity, which I do too much
Apprehend. I am no ravisher; may be, when you shall see
Some greedily pursue what you do, with such scorn, refuse,
And those perhaps your equalls, you'l finde too late,
You fondly have pursued your misery, and fled
From a great happinesse, and begin to make you
Feel your folly I'le tie you to this hard condition,
As I believe you will account it.
Phil.
What is't, Lady? there's but one womans threatning,
That can affright me.
Luc.
Say you so, I'le try that; tell me that womans name,
The place of her abode, or by my hopes of happinesse,
I'le make you the most miserable man alive;
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Phil.
You are witty in your anger, this is no effect of that great love,
That you profest; it may be, time will make me
Better know your worth. Me-thinks you look more lovely
Then you did, though at the first fair.
Luc.
Oh Sir, do you begin to flatter: Her name, name,
And with it, liberty; if you deny, to prison.
Phil.
No other way.
Luc.
None, as I live; can you expect from me, the injur'd,
Any favour? Could I invent a way more to afflict ye
You should be sure to feel it.
Phil.
What shall I do? the choice is hard:
How can this any way advantage you?
Luc.
If she be more deserving than my selfe,
I shall not then repine to be refused; if lesse,
Contemn you for your folly; and do not fear,
That I will make another partner of
The secret, which may be troubles you.
Phil.
If I have not lost it, I am happy; read the direction of this Letter.
Luc.
Let's see't.
Phil.
Aurelia made me so direct my Letters, so to deceive,
If any by misfortune should be seen.
Luc.
To the fair hands of the most admired Lucinda.
How's this? he must not see my blushing, this cannot be
It may; How? I am transported betwixt joy and fear?
Swear by the gods, Lucinda is the creature you most affect.
Phil.
There's no help, shee's too wise to be deceived.
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Come, swear.
Phil.
By Aurelia's selfe, the greatest oath, I love no other then Aurelia.
Luc.
All my hopes thus again vanisht. You are free
Enter Servants.
And I the most unfortunate. Sir, you must be contented,
They bear you back as you came hither; and think,
What you have seen or heard, was but a dream.
[Exit.
Phil.
Thus I refuse, cruell Aurelia, for thy sake,
A beauty, that the powerfull gods might rivalls make.
Ser.
Sir, we must bear you many leagues hence.
Phil.
Even where you please.
Exeunt.
Enter the two Courtiers.
1.
He's stark mad, with the conceit of his Favourits
place.
2.
You'l ne're make him know himselfe.
1.
The better : you see, he makes good sport at
Court.
2.
Take heed, it may be there are some that do believe,
you brought him to mock them.
1.
If there be any there so simple to believe that, then
I have personated those I know not of, & I am glad on't
2.
I, but to touch upon the name or actions of a Favourit,
may bear equall danger with those of Princes.
1.
If this fool Favourit of ours do trouble any other,
tell them, that Jewells receive their lustre from a foyl;
if then not satisfied, they're neer a kin to him in judgment,
and envious to me; yet, I forgive them, knowing
their malice cannot hurt my innocence, who rather
wish to receive an injury my selfe, then touch at
any, whose fooling is not their greatest merit; I mean,
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Enter Gudgen and his Man.
Y. G.
Tell my Lords man, I am wondrous busie, and
cannot speak with him these two hours.
Man,
I will, an't please your honour. He's stark mad,
but I must humour him.
2.
What Lord's man?
1.
There's none to speak with him, 'tis his fancy.
Y. G.
In good faith, Sir, I cannot do't for you.
Man.
I am very sorry for't.
Y. G.
I must not waste my stock of favour, on so unreasonable
businesses. Greater profit. I, ye say true; I
know it will be the greater profit: But, Sir, 'twill likewise
raise much envy against me, and I am not very
well setled; the great men apprehend the danger of my
rising, and study how to give a stop to all my hopes.
Man.
Very like, Sir.
Y. G.
Oh, Sir, assure your selfe, in any other thing
I shall be ready to serve you. Farewell, noble Sir.
Man.
Now I must go.
Y. G.
Pox o'this coxcomb, why does he trouble me?
Yet, 'tis good policy to speak him fair to his face, I
may have use of him. Please your grace, this is a friend
of mine, a deserving man.
Man.
Alas, Sir.
Y. G.
I humbly thank your grace. Your suit is granted.
Max.
Is it?
Y. G.
But with great difficulty. Sir, this mans suit is
most impertinent, himself an idle, ill natur'd, and seditious
fellow; I have known him long. Away, y'are
sawcy. Madam, your husband shall have the place, I
vow 'tis for your sake onely. Command you? no,
Madam. I'le wait on you at your lodging, sweet Madam.
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you now, you see his grace hath sent for me in haste,
pray tell him that I come. You are importunate, Get
the Coach there hoe.
Man.
Yes, Sir.
Exeunt.
2.
This is direct madnesse, and yet he speaks more
sense, than ere he did in his life, but that he speaks to
no body.
1.
Nay, th'Ass is strangely mixt; sometimes he will have
starts of wit, that would almost cousen a man.
2.
He would passe for a very accomplished Gentleman
amongst some women; but that his hoping to be
a Favourit discovers him.
Enter Gudgen and his Man.
Y. G.
Slave, not my Coach ready?
2.
What, the scene's chang'd now, the Lady is
Sprat again.
Y. G.
My Coach, thou cur.
Man.
How many horses, Sir?
Y. G.
Six, thou peasant.
Man.
An't please your honour, will not Cut, and
your father's dung-Cart serve to day, I'le be the
Coachman.
Y. G.
Be dumb, thou traitor, dost thou not know,
Obedience, not advice, belongs to servants; but I will
teach thee how to be malepert, thou Brock.
1.
Nay, Sir, for this time let me beg his pardon; besides,
Sir, spend not your rage so poorly. Hark you,
Sir.
Y. G.
How?
1.
It must be so, your reputation is in danger else; a
Favourit must be noble, of a great spirit, carelesse of
danger.
Y. G.
Why, Sir, then I am right; I care so little for
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me, it had better keep farther off, it shall be sure
of cold entertainment.
1.
You are wise, Sir, I believe it.
Y. G.
Wise, I would have you know,
Ere all be done, the world shall think me so.
1.
I, Sir, we find the weight of it.
Exeunt.
Finis Actûs tertii.
| The Fool Would be a Favourit : Or, the Discreet Lover | |