 | The tragedy of Albovine, King of the Lombards |  |
Act the first.
Scene first.
Enter Paradine, Grimoald, Gondibert; the Drummes ceasing.Paradine.
Giue the word aloud?
Grimo.
Stand?
1.
[Within.]
Stand!
2.
[Within.]
Stand!
3.
[Within.]
Stand!
Parad.
Our motion has been swift: wee out-march Time.
Verona, (which with the mornings dim eye
We seem'd to view like Landschaip; afarre off)
Is our full obiect now. She must repent;
Our King is Steward vnto Fate; the world
Receiue from him their destinies.
Grimo.
Sure, the Gouernour sleepes. My Lord, is't fit
We waite vpon such Silkewormes, crepp'd in wooll?
Parad.
Since we attaind the Towne not by assault,
Humilitie enough to meet vs at the Gate.
Enter Hermegild.
Gondib.
Here comes Hermegild.
Herm.
Haile, young souldier! My noble Paradine!
The King must hold my nature much excus'd,
If I do greet his safe approach with loue,
Lesse violent then I expresse to thy
Rich soule. I am resolu'd thou art in health,
And fauour with thy starres.
Parad.
Ere I returne your kinde salute, I would
After your faire charge inquire. Say the Queene
Smiles in captiuitie, my Valdaura
Hurts not her health with griefe; then I haue heard
Enough to make me cherish life.
Hermig.
Rhodolinda doth become her title
And her birth. Since depriu'd of popular
Homage, she hath been Queene ore her great selfe.
In this captiuity nere passionate
But when she heares me name the King, and then
Her passions not of anger taste, but loue:
Loue of her Conquerour: he that in fierce
Battaile (when the Cannons sulpherous breath
Clouded the day) her noble Father slew:
Our Royall Master once; now sunke into
His soyle; where like the Lilly wither'd,
He neuer shall renew his growth agen.
My memory disturbes my Tongue! Your faire
Valdaura makes the Queene her rare and iust
Example, and is in patience skilfull.
Parad.
Know, Hermegild, no hasty minute pass'd
(Since their captiuitie) wherein I fail'd
To be a sutor to the King for both.
But he's in kindnesse prompt, and still doth speake
Like Musicke, when he Rhodolinda names:
Herm.
Thy vanquish'd Country owes vnto thy fame
A tall Pyramid! The captiu'd virgins
Of our Nation shall in their last Dirges
Sing thy prayse with mirth. O, I could grow old
Within thy sight. Something we now must talke
Together, and heauen will listen to't,
As to the breath of Saints—
Parad.
I knew we should haue vse of conference:
Which made me begge the leading of the Vanne,
The more t'assist our opportune meeting.
Herm.
Afford your eares in priuat.
Grim.
Though Paradine looke flourishing, and like
A thing new brush'd; a flame of triumph,
(As if his father surfetted in some
O're-growne City when he got him) yet he
Hath in him seeds of warre, bold thoughts, and we
I'th Campe, esteeme him honest too.
Gond.
He is our Kings Minion, sleepes in his bosome.
Grim.
True, & the Royall foole greets him with such
Rauenous kisses, that you would thinke, he meant
To eate his lips.
Gond.
The Captiue captiuates the Conquerour.
Three Moones haue not expir'd their vsuall change,
Since he was prisoner to the King; though now
His Fauorite.
Grim.
Th'art too loud! If thou'lt talke safely, go get
A sore throat; hoarce men speake low.
The captiu'd Rhodolinda, (whose father
Albouine depriu'd of life and kingdome)
Hath with such amorous subtiltie behau'd
Her gesture, that Albouine is now her
To visit her. She makes him guilty of
Idolatry, and knowes the thrifty vse
Of time: as she ascends, her Countrimen
Must rise.
Gond.
You haue call'd that Hermegild her Creature?
Grimo.
He was her fathers Councellor; a man
Created in the darke: he walkes inuisibly;
He dwels in Labyrinths; he loues silence:
But when he talkes, his language carries more
Promiscuous sense, then ancient Oracles.
So various in his shapes, that oft he is
Disguiz'd from his owne knowledge. An error
Much incident to humane Politicks,
Who striue to know others more then themselues.
Gond.
Obserue their complement.
Grimo.
Pox o' these French ligges? Courtiers alwaies dance.
This is to Hermegild meere lechery:
This wanton gesture doth obscure
Thoughts of such consequence and weight, as hang
Like Plummets on his heart. Paradine is
A soft, easie foole, and must be guld.
Herm.
O my sweet Lord—
Grimo.
Now the Motion speakes.
Herm.
Such indeerements would too much impouerish
My gratitude: yet, tis meet our actions
Carry smooth equalitie: your consent
Must further all my Sutes You are the Kings
Iewell, and hang richly in his eare.
Parad.
You are precious vnto her whom loud noise
Already calls our Queene: faire Rhodolinda!
We may (if they prooue naturall and kinde)
Gouerne the Nation that hath conquered vs;
Not stray from noble Arts: such hopes our free
Imbraces prophecy. The King.
Loud musick.
Enter Albouine, Frollo, Conrade, Vollterri, &c.
Frollo.
Your Troopes (Sir) are so diuided into
Mix'd files, that to the City you doe march
Betweene thick walles of men.
Albou.
Let my Horse-guard bring vp the Rere. We'le sport
With warre. We haue no vse of safety now,
But of magnificence.
Vollterri.
The order is already giuen. It was
Your Royall will, we hasten in our March,
Therefore each Squadron double their paces.
Albou.
My Boy, I bring thee home my chiefe Trophy:
Thou dost delight me more then victory.
Retire. I am in loue too violent.
My embraces crush thee, thou art but yet
Of tender growth—
Parad.
My Countriman would kisse your Royal hands,
And then expect no greater happinesse
Till he arriue in heauen. He hath done your
Rhodolinda seruice—
Presents Hermeg. on his knee to the King.
Herm.
Rhodolinda is your humblest captiue.
She inserts you often in her prayers,
And call'd it my chiefe duty to present
Her true seruice to your Maiesty.
Albou.
Her name doth inrich our Language. My boy
Can witnesse that I loue her: she makes me
Prattle in my sleepe: I'ue drunke Mandragora,
To become drowzie, in hope that I might
Dreame of her. Rise, and expect Honour.
Gouernour.
High and sacred Maiesty! Verona
Hath vnhindg'd her wide Gates: proud to admit
The fate of Kingdomes. Our crooked Matrones
Forget their age: and (as the ragged Earth
At the Springs warme approach) look fresh, & young,
To intertaine you. Our timorous Virgins
(With the bold Youth) ioyne in one wanton Quire
To sing your welcome.
Grimo.
How the Spaniell fawnes, 'cause he dares not barke?
Gouer.
Th'amorous Vine clips not the shady Poplar
With such regard (about whose mossie waste
She hangs a smiling Louer.) Our City is
By the reflection of your blest approach
Like Pelion deck'd, whom Tython's Mistresse
(Leauing the weeping East) with brightnesse guilds.
There's not a wrinkle left in all Verona,
Wherein pale sorrow, or rebellious enuy
Can finde their loathed Mansion. Flattering ioy
Swells big each loyall bosome. All implore
You as their safety; who hath hush'd the noise
Of discord, and loud warre.
Grim.
The Rascall flatters, as if he had seru'd
His prentiship in Court.
Albou.
Th'ast done me iustice, Gouernor, & know'st
The way to make me thankefull, but not proud.
I vnderstand thou hast with honor'd safety
Preseru'd those Iewels to thy charge committed,
(My Rhodolinda, and my Boys Valdaura.)
And so increas'd new motiues of our thanks.
Gouer.
Heauen has made your memory too humble,
Thus to record your creatures seruice.
Let now the knotty Laborer rust with ease,
And aloud proclaime, that the vpland Boore
Release his Teeme, and his industrious Plough.
Let him sing glad Iös to the rustick
Powers that guard his fields, and vnto me.
Gouern.
It is by you we are: no warlike Ram,
Nor battering engine forc'd a bloody entrance
Through our thicke walls. It was the powerfull breath
Of your victorious fame, that conquer'd vs.
To that we yeelded: which as a rough blast
That poasts from the cold Artick Pole, hath borne
Before it captiu'd Nations.
Albo.
By heauen a good old man! if he be learn'd,
Ile haue him write my Annales.
Grim.
Indeed he lookes like a Chronicler.
Albo.
Paradine? Informe him of my deeds.
Thou hast beheld my discipline full of
Shape and order, when confusion did oppresse
The foe, and stifled them in throngs. Hah! Looke!
Rhodolinda's come to guild our Triumph!
Enter Rhodolinda, Valdaura, Thesina, and Attendants in mourning.
Parad.
And my Valdaura too! let Nature shew
A third obiect so delightfull, we'le sweare
She is not old, nor her first materials
Wasted, but in creation still retaines
Her former strength and skill.
Albou.
But why (my beautious Captiue) art thou still
In Sables wrapp'd?
Rhodo.
Your starres bid you be happy. My crosse fate
Like the Rauen, croaks a funerall note:
That chaines my soule in darknesse. And filiall loue
Commands me mourne for him, whom you too soone
Depriu'd of life, my conquer'd father.
Albou.
Let his ashes rest
At quiet in their Vrne. His ghost long since
Hath wash'd away the memory of his fate
In slow-pac'd Læthe. Take me, modest faire,
Into thy bosome. O hide me there!
My glad soule, how full is thy content?
Now, thou fear'd thing, that guid'st the heauenly Empire,
Rend all the murmuring clouds, and dart
Thy Thunder at me: I am safe.
Rhodo.
My captiuiry must needs seeme easie,
Whilst the Conquerour proues so kinde.
Albo.
I could gaze thus on thee, till my wonder
Did conuert me into marble; and yet
My soule would in her selfe retaine a fire,
Liuely as that which bold Prometheus stole.
Were the Sea coagulate, and the world
Returnd to th'antick Chaos, a blinde Lumpe;
Thy looke would force the warring elements
Into a sacred order; and beget
A harmony like this they now inioy.
Rhodo.
You are too powerfull in you speech.
Albo.
Yet when I valew thus thy excellence,
Let me not forget my owne high being.
I'ue humbled all the Nations of the earth;
Brought home as spoyles the whole wealth of Nature:
Yet, Rhodolinda, nought like thee. Let me
Whisper my content, for soft musicke most
Delights the female eare.
They walke aside.
Parad.
Why, my deare Valdaura, dost thou suspect
On my honour, before it ceaze on me,
If in my brest I intertaine a thought
Vnlawfull.
Vald.
I esteeme you (Sir) a friend to vertue,
And in that hope would cherish all your loue.
Parad.
In thy faire brow, there's such a Legend writ
Of timorous chastitie, that it doth blinde
Th'adulterous Eye. Not the Mountaine Ice,
(Congeal'd to Christall) is so frosty chaste
As thy victorious soule, which conquers Man,
And Mans proud Tyrant-passion. But I am
Too rough for Courtship, the soft harmony
Which wanton Peace instructs the Tongue to make,
I haue forgot. Trust me (bright Maid!)
I loue thee dearely. Though I'ue found thy heart
Like Pibble, smooth, but stony.
Valda.
I'ue heard my mother say: the curled Youth
Of Italy, were prompt in wanton stealths,
And sinfull Arts. Till Time had giuen me
Assurance of your noble thoughts; 'twas safe
To doubt your loue. But now I wish I were
More worthy, and then would prooue more liberall
Of my selfe.
Parad.
Let me enioy thy hand! that moyst Adamant
That so attracts my soule! We will (ere night
Her black Curtaine drawes) make compleat this loue,
With marriage Rites.
Albo.
How now, Boy! Is my interest so decay'd
In your young person, that you giue away your selfe
Without my leaue!
Parad.
Humbly on my knee, I beg the vulgar
Priuiledge due to all hearts. To loue, and not enioy,
And still remaine possess'd with breath.
Albou.
Thou hast shew'd me physick for my passion.
Take him, Valdaura, and be proud! Tis I
That loue him: nor shall your ioyes be single.
Ile make the number yet more full. This day
We'le consecrate to Hymens vse. Behold
Your Queene (who though my Captiue) for her birth
And beauty, is the first of Queenes.
Gouer.
High Heauen increase your ioyes!
Herm.
And may you liue together vntill Time
Shall sicken with his age.
Frollo., Conrad.
Long liue Albouine King of the Lombards!
Herm.
Cry vp Rhodolinda too!
Frollo., Conrad.
Liue Rhodolinda, Queene of the Lombards!
Alb.
Gouernor! Tis our will that you expect
Honour, and true safety. Your Cities loue
I shall perceiue by popular noise, and your
Behauiour in this great solemnitie.
Let the Sunne smile; the Winde sport with our Plumes!
This day let sick-men too forget to groane.
Let all glad Hymnes in one mix'd concord sound,
And make the ecchoing heauen your mirth rebound.
Exeunt all, but Grimold, Vollterri, Gondibert.
Grim.
The King's head must now conuert to rotten wood.
Gond.
Why, Grimold?
Grim.
That Court Earewiggs may liue there, and deuoure
His brains. Dost not perceiue how they begin
To creepe into his eares?
Gond.
Generous soules are still most subiect to
Grim.
He is a Germane in his drinke: busied
With a wanton pride, which his Flatterers
Admire for mirth, but his friends doe pitie.
Vollt.
He should be told his sinnes.
Grim.
By whom? Vollterri, now the King forsakes
The Campe, he must maintaine luxurious mouthes,
Such as can vtter perfum'd breath, and these
Straite compose a faction, engrosse his eares.
They limit still his conuersation.
Euen as the slow finger of the Diall
Doth in its motion circular remoue
To distant figures: so by a subtill
Leasure, they doe prefix the houres,
When he must change his Parasite,
For one more skilfull, how t'admire, and praise.
No honest Tongue can euer interpose
To tell him he is mortall.
Gond.
It is the chiefe misery of Princes,
Nere to vnderstand their owne crimes, to sinne
In ignorance.
Grim.
True, his Confessor, that in sight externe
A Patriarke seemes, will gaine by flattery,
And superscribe vnto the King, as to the Pope
(His holinesse.) But Gondibert,
Whom Conclaues here in Court doe canonize
For Saints, will scarce be admitted in heauen
For Angels.
Vollter.
Now Rhodolinda is become his Riuall
In high Soueraigntie, she will permit
No errors but her owne: The King must mend
What she mislikes.
Grim.
She giues vs leasure to expect
When they doe rule, then when th'obey.
Gond.
Valdaura is inrich'd with a sweetnesse
So religious, that Paradine must sinne
In priuate, or need no mercy.
Grim.
Th'ast nam'd her! Though my obdurate sufferance
In actiue warre hath quite depriu'd me of
All amorous gesture. Though not these forty
Winters, I haue seene any of her sex
But Suttlers wiues, who, in stead of Fillets,
Wrap their sooty haire in Horses girts. Though
My marrow is frozen in my bones,
Yet I melt before her eyes. When I see her,
I grow proud below the Nauell. For she
Is none o'th' French Noursery, that practice
The sublime friske. None o' your ijgging Girles,
That pearch Paraqueeto's on their fists,
And ride toth' Court like Venus Falconers.
Gond.
Grimold, hoarce men speake low, thou hast not caught
A cold yet.
Grim.
She's none of those that on their heads aduance
High, swagg'ring Plumes, like a gay Forehorse
In a Country Teeme. O, she's worth the tempting!
Vollter.
Dost thou so commend her vertues, and yet
Wouldst thou tempt her vnto vice?
Grim.
That's a trick I learnt of the deuill. Those
That are vertuous, need his temptation,
The wicked haue power enough to damne themselues.
Gond.
Hark how they showte! Away Grimold, or we
Shall lose the Triumph!
Showting within.
Grim.
Roome for Cuckolds, whose hornes are so high;
They bore the Moone, as she friskes in the skie!
Exeunt omnes.
| The tragedy of Albovine, King of the Lombards | |