 | The tragedy of Albovine, King of the Lombards |  |
Act the second.
Scene first.
Enter Grimold, Gondibert, Vollterri.Grim.
This Peace makes me rotten, dusty
As a Cobweb. I liue like a Cricket
Ith' corner of an Ouen. Pox o' these oregrowne
Cities. To be valiant here, is to forfeit
The Statute: and these furr'd gownes hold,
There is no sinne so great as pouerty.
Gond.
Thou art as melancholy as a leane Iudge!
Grim.
I, or a corrupted Officer, at the noise
Of a Parliament. In this diuision
Of vnualewed Tropheys, Territories
Vast and ample, (gain'd partly by my sweat)
Not a single Acre falls to my share.
Enter Cunymond, Frollo, Conrade, Seruants with a Banquet.
Cuny.
Beare back there! They thrust as if they meant
To get me with child—
Frollo.
You sirrah! d'ye get the Kings officer
With child?
Conr.
Beare back there! or we'le put ye to the charge
Of Surgery—
Cuni.
Dispatch, fellowes!
Gondib.
Is not that Cunymond?
Grim.
The same. He is a great Astrologer.
The meere Anotamy i'th front o'th Kalender.
You may know where the Signe is, by some toy
Remoues.
Cuny.
Frollo, did they enter here by your permission?
Frollo.
Not by mine, Sir.
Cuny.
Nor yours, Conrade?
Conrad.
They are men of China for ought I know.
Cuny.
Then they must out. Gentlemen, pray auoide
The Presence.
Grim.
'S death Sir! d'ye make vs your Voyders?
Vollter.
Must we carry away your Cheese-parings?
Thrust your Bodkins forth!
Gond.
Draw i'th Presence? Art thou mad?
Grim.
How he stands? he is created of Starch,
And dares not vse a boysterous motion,
Lest he should fall in Rumples.
Cuny.
Sir, you may speake like a Cannon! but you
Shall either goe, or—
Grim.
Or what, Sir?
Cuny.
Or stay, Sir.
Conrad.
By heauen he shall doe one, Sir—
Frollo.
Nay, Captaine, doe not look, as if y'had drunk
Vineger. You must, or go, or—stay Sir—
Loud knocking.
Cuny.
Hey! we are tumbling in a Drum.
Within.
Fellowes o' the Guard, make way there! Officers!
Open the doore—
Cun.
Beare back there! Gentlemen! what d'ye meane?
Pray' beare back—
Loud Musicke.
Enter Albouine, Rhodolinda, Paradine, Valdaura, Hermegild, Thesina, &c.
Herm.
Phœbus will be thought more rash then Phaeton,
If now he hasten to the West. Sir, this
Then what is limitted to all within
Our Kalender.
Albo.
Hermegild, thy free heart adds to our triumph!
Grim.
Sir, I'ue some few words, I needs must vtter:
Since my last seruices in Hungary,
You remaine on my Tally six thousand
Duckats: I'm loth to skore vp still, and pay
My selfe with my owne Chalke.
Albo.
Wouldst haue thy Soule dismissed a naturall way?
Gri.
I would not starue, looke, like a parch'd Anotamy
Sow'd in a Kid-skin. Pay your debts, Sir!
Albo.
I neuer met with boldnesse, vntill now!
My courage is quite puzled!
Grim.
Do your eares blister to heare this? My breath is
Wholsome. I cannot tipple like a Duck
In a greene Poole. Nor feed on Berries in
A Hedge, like some lost remnant o' my fathers
Scatterd lust. Sir, pay your debts!
Albo.
Sure, thou art some spirit! I cannot kill thee!
Grim.
In this diuision of the Lands, I help'd
To conquer; I am not furnish'd with
A Mole-hill for a pillow.
Albo.
Hermegild sat chiefe in the Committee
For diuision of those Lands: bid him reward
Your seruice: besides, I mistake the custome,
Or tis my Treasurers office to pay
My debts, not mine.
Grim.
No Sir, (thanks to your Royall thrift) it is
Your office to pay all; your Treasurers
Custome to pay nothing.
Thrusts him away.
Albo.
Do not interrupt my marriage Rites!
Grim.
I cannot take your reference for paiment.
Would thou wert dead!
Grim.
Sir, Ile make my Ghost, my Executor,
And walke after death, ere Ile lose my mony.
Albo.
Sit, my Rhodolinda: This is thy Spheare!
In th'absence of the Sunne, we must receiue
Our light from thee. Paradine, thy Bride expects
Thy seruice.
Parad.
Sh'as an ill bargaine on't, to rule one night,
And euer after to obey.
Her.
Captaine, though the King be prompt in mercy,
Yet hath he so much anger in him,
As will expresse him mortall. Tis for your
Safety, to auoid the Presence.
Grim.
Ile bribe your Lordship with a Ginny Toothpick!
Herm.
You must repent this language.
Parad.
He must not, Hermegild!
Herm.
How, my Lord!
Parad.
These whom you number in your faction,
Enioy, by your assistance, proud structures;
And fertill Granges, to maintaine their gaudy
Riot. Sir, you had a fraile memory,
Or a degenerate heart, when you forgot
His merit; might you incorporate those in one,
The sordid bulke could nere make vp his shadow.
Hermeg.
I am prescrib'd my discipline in Court!
Parad.
Grimold, away! Tis my desire you leaue
The Presence.
Grim.
I am obedient (Sir) to your desire.
Gond.
'Slight, thou hast made a braue retreat.
Vollt.
I look'd when both of vs should taste
Of immortalitie.
Exeunt Grimo. Gond. Vollt.
Herm.
He that inflam'd this fire, will scorch his busie
Fingers. My Lord, it was vnkindly done
It is your last fault.
Parad.
I cannot reckon it among my faults.
Sir, you inuolue your meaning in your speech.
The world shall finde me honest.
Herm.
You are a Bridegroome now.
Albo.
Hermegild, make your anger knowne,
For else your frownes will cause your loyaltie
To be suspected. This night should be as smooth
And pleasant, as that to which we owe our bless'd
Natiuitie.
Herm.
Sir, you are great on Earth! I am meerely
Your creation. My passions doe afford
Your high delight all sympathy.
Old Time hath throwne his feathers from his heeles,
And slowly limps in's motion to prolong
This Triumph: but if Paradine affront
Hymen, and me with sullen rage, it shall
Be call'd my piety to suffer.
Rhodo. stands vp.
Rho.
How! your Excellence ought t'excuse my speech!
VVhen your victorious sword depriu'd me of
My Father; I enter'd to captiuity,
As to th'oblique shade, where death inhabits.
Till you allowd me Hermegild; who with
His high Philosophy did make
My bondage sweete. My Father lou'd him well:
He was his noblest Seruant, and must not
For his vertues suffer, vntill your sacred tongue
Forbid me share with you in Soueraignty.
Albo.
Boy, this was a bold crime. You must not giue
Me cause to chide my fond heart. Valdaura,
Vrge him to proffer friendship
Vnto Hermegild; you are powerfull
My chiefe prerogatiue—
Vald.
I am too timorous to deale with anger:
If he prooue sterne of nature, my Marriage
Is my funerall. My Lord!
Herm.
Paradine, I'ue an humble loue. I will
Present it first to your refusall.—
Parad.
I want your phrase, to make my manners seeme
Lesse rugged. All that is loue, I cherish
With such religious heate, as my Valdaura
Claimes, since our young Nuptiall—
Albo.
This embracement is a sacrifice
To thee my Queene: whose deity
Consists of loue. Sit, and with your
Persons, straight intrench the Table. Some wine!
Fill in my Germane Plate; Ile drinke as when
I'm hot with victory. This to my Bride—
Cuny.
Sound high!
Albo.
More wine, and noise! Now Boy, I celebrate
Valdaura's health—
Cuny.
Bid their Instruments speake lowder.
They're afraid to wake the Neighbours.
Albo.
This is legitimate blood of the rich
Corsick Grape: precious as thy teares
(My Royall Girle) when thou art penitent
To heauen.
Whilest the King talkes, they drinke.
Herm.
Spare me in the next, and Ile esteeme you
Courteous; so much wine will put me to the charge
Of Physicke.
Cuny.
Your Lordship ownes it as a prime vertue—
Albo.
Shall the world bleed? but frowne, and thou renew'st
A Chaos. Maligne the pride of some farre
Easterne Queene, whom Trauellers bely,
Or like the Northerne winde vpon the Maine,
Where lazie Hulkes are toss'd like chips.
Rhodo.
I merit no such complement.
Albo.
Ile do't. Tis thought, I am immortall.
The chiefe of my great Ancestors, that made
A wilde incursion ore this fertill soile,
Was but a tipe of me. More wine!—Thy breath
Is as the smoke of spices. I taste thy
Melting lippes, and straight ingender kisses.
Heart! Boy, you are too rauenous!
Parad.
I euer held your Maiesty my best
Example. Kisses nimbly gather'd,
The faster grow.
Herm.
The Lombards vse to share this sport!
He kisses Thesina.
Albo.
Is not your name Pigwiggin?
Cuny.
Pigwiggin! your Grace was wont to call me
Cunymond: I am no Faery.
Albo.
Nor I the King of Faeries. 'Slight, sir, d'ye
Present me with a Cup, made, o'th bottome
Of an Akehorne, or Queene Mabbs Thimble?
Fill me a bowle, where I may swimme,
And bathe my head, then rise like Phœbus from
The Ocean, shaking my dewy Locks.
A health to Cesars' memory. Boy, doe me
Iustice, or thou afrontst my Triumph!
Parad.
Conrade, the King will drowne vs all!
Conr.
Y'haue now, Sir, but the moiety of his draught.
Rhodo.
Though Fame lends you her Trumpet, giues you leaue
To speake your owne praise, you cannot vtter more
Then my beliefe shall warrant.
Albo.
Now thou whisper'st like the amorous Lute!
Ile sweepe the Nations into'th Sea, like dust.
Thy father was magnanimous, and great
King of the Girpides. Yet his title
Sat not so nobly on him, as my conquest.
Know, his vnkind fate, was his chiefe glory:
For it was I that slew him; and thou his
Captiu'd Daughter art my Queene.
Rhod.
Sir, if you continue this narration,
I shall weepe.
Albou.
Doe, weepe! then on my heart strings I will thread
Thy teares in stead of Pearle: such a wealthy
Bracelet, Ioue would present vnto his Queene:
And she tuck vp her sleeues, to shew her gawdy wrists.
More wine! Bring vs the Bowle of Victory.
Exit Cunymond. Paradine kneeles.
Parad.
Sir, you ingag'd your Royall word, neuer
To present that fatall obiect.
Albo.
Paradine, doe not resist my pleasure.
Ile crush thee into Ayre.
Parad.
I am in my ambition vertuous,
If I desire t'expire a sacrifice
To loyaltie. Sir, ruine what you made,
But doe not violate your Vow.
Albou.
Hence! I shall delight in fury!
Enter Cunymond with a Skull, made into a drinking-Bowle.
Welcome, the horrid Trophey of my chiefe warre!
Rhodolinda, Ile try thy fortitude.
This was thy Fathers Skull: thou shalt pledge a health
Vnto his Ghost.
He drinks: all rise vp.
O fatall! my eies shrinke within my brow!
I gather Agues like the Spring, and tremble
Like the vnlick'd Lambe, newly yeand vpon
A sheete of Snow.
Vald.
Hide me, Paradine! the obiect doth so
Penetrate, that when I winke, I spie it
Through my Lids.
Albou.
Tame, feeble Soule! Will she not pledge
What we doe celebrate? Returne her person—
Cunym.
Madam, the King—
Strikes him, and exit.
Rhod.
The King's a Tyrant, and thou his slaue.
Frollo.
That's a fauour, Signior.
Cunym.
I weare it as a Iewell in my eare.
Parad.
Fly, deare Valdaura; sweeten her censure
Of this act, and mediate for the King.
Vald.
Thesina, prethee helpe me in discourse;
My wonder (Wench) doth so disturbe my speech,
I feare I shall grow dumbe.
Thesi.
The work is pious we attempt.
Exeunt Vald. Thes.
Her.
The harmony of your sweet tongue is his
Best physicke: diuorce him from those black thoughts,
Whil'st I imploy my vtmost skill, to win
The Queene to his imbraces. She's great of Soule,
And may determine what my fond heart laments
To prophecy.
Parad.
Y'are my best Countriman, kind and loyall.
Exit Herm.
Albo.
So pale and timorous! Ile sooner couple
With a Mandrake, and beget groanes.
Parad.
My Royall Lord!
Albo.
Hah! Am I alone? Haue they all left me?
Where is my Empire? Doe I gouerne in
The vacant Ayre?
Sir, am I lost vnto your memory?
You were wont to trust my seruice: the way
Vnto your Couch lyes here—
Albo.
None shall be proud but I. My smiles reuiue
The dead: but when I frowne, the liuing straight
Melt into Ghosts.
Cunym.
Lights for the King there!
Parad.
Cunymond, you are too officious! The Kings
Departure must be priuat.
Exeunt Albo. Parad.
Frollo.
The King is light enough himselfe: he needs
No Torches.
Cunym.
And heauy enough! for he seemes to reele
With his owne weight.
Conrad.
No Maskes! No Epithelamion now!
Call for a Bonesetter, for Time hath sprain'd
His feete, and goes awry.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Rhodolinda. Hermegild.
Rhodo.
O Hermegild! a generall eclips
In Nature, would not seeme so horrid!
To cut those cordiall strings which Hymen had
But newly ty'd.
Her.
I, there's the horror! whil'st his Vowes sat warm
Vpon his Lips; his breath not mingled yet
With cooler Ayre; thus to perturbe by sterne
Practice your sweet rest, was worse then periury.
Rhod.
To present my Royall Fathers Skull,
In drunken Triumph.
Herm.
Take heede! you will distract your memory.
There's a Record, Time striues to lose; and Fame
To hide beneath some oblique fold in her
Thicke Volume, as loth to discredit all
His interest in heauen. I'ue seene the good
Old King search for his picture in your eyes; then—
Rhod.
No more: Patience is sinfull now. Thou art
Deepely read and wise: instruct me to be bold,
For Albouine hath taught me to be cruell.
Hermeg.
Y'are now by holy Church incorporate;
Therefore Diuinitie forbids me vse
My naturall motions. How e're I thinke
It fit, you giue him direfull cause, soone to
Repent: Repentance sure is physick for his soule.
Enter Paradine, Valdaura.
Paradine and's young Bride! Your excellence
Shall please that we retire: whil'st I disguize
My kind gesture, and seeme to flatter in
The Kings behalfe—
Parad.
To bed soft modesty! I will my selfe
Deliuer to the Queene the King's intent.
Vald.
Sir, the King is cruell. Should you proue so
To me, I'ld soone distill my soule to teares,
And weepe an Ocean deepe enough to drowne
My sorrowes, and my selfe.
Parad.
'Twere sterne guilt to doubt my nature. Faire Saint,
To bed, I long to lose my Youth in warme
Embraces, and ere the pearly Morne appeare,
Make thee a teeming Mother. To bed! with winged hast
Expect my presence.
Exit Valdaura.
Herm.
How smooth appeares the Brow of Youth!
Parad.
Haile Rhodolinda! the Royall Mistresse
Of this night. Thus Albouine (our great King) bade
Me say, Y'are dearer to his eyes then light.
Priuiledge to rule her Lord, till Hesperus
Appeare, and cancell her briefe Charter.
Yet he doth humbly beg, you'le not infringe
The Lombards custome, whose Virgins neuer vow
A continence the Nuptiall night.
Rhod.
I yet want your meaning.
Par.
Tis his chiefe hope that you will straight expect
His person in your bed.
Rhod.
How! lye with him? Ile sooner choose a Mansion
In a sepulcher: There commit incest
With the raw remnant of my fathers bones:
Sooner imbrace an ayrie Incubus:
Mingle Limmes with some vlcerous Cripple,
Able to infect an Hospitall.
Parad.
O take heed! Take heed, faire Maiesty! let not
His rash sinne prouoke you to intend so dire
An abstinence: ere yet the wine hath lost
Th'vnruly operation. The King disclaimes
His wanton pride, and mortifies himselfe
VVith sullen griefe.
Rhod.
Canst thou suspect, I will prooue inconstant,
To what in cold temperance I determine?
Parad.
Heauen auert you should approue your error.
Rhod.
Ile kneele, and vow with all solemnitie—
Herm.
O hold! 'twere blacke impietie in vs
To suffer such a horrid crime. You may
Informe the King of my religious loyalty,
Already I haue vs'd perswasiue speech
To reconcile this ods: but she growes wilde,
Repugnant to all mercy.
Parad.
As you esteeme your Royall selfe, or vs,
Who (when kinder Planets rul'd) were seruants
No more this anger in your brest, lest Time
Afford it growth and violence, till it
Disturbe the world.
Herm.
He councels like a sacred Oracle.
Parad.
I will informe the King, your continence
You onely celebrate to this blacke night,
And giue him hope, that you'le hereafter smile,
His kinde inticements meet with equall heate,
And fertill loue. Though I'm vnhewne, and shap'd
In warre, this softens all my faculties—
Rhod.
Stay, Paradine; didst thou not name my Father?
Parad.
I did with a deuout remembrance!
Rhod.
And thou know'st how thy good Country suffers?
Parad.
I think on it, and my heart hangs heauy
On its strings; galles them with its sullen weight.
Rhod.
Hermegild oft receiues certificate
From some in bondage there, which writ in Prose, doe,
I'th reading into Verse dissolue: so sad
The businesse is, so fit for elegie.
Hermeg.
So sad a Requiem yet was neuer sung,
Though the hoarce Rauen, and the Whistler shrill,
The Howlet, and the euening Dorr made vp
The fatall Quire. The young men there are yoak'd
In payres, and stretch their sinnews in a Teeme,
To draw the wealthy haruest to the Grange,
Where th'insulting foe resides. The aged
(Heretofore in purple cloth'd) that dispos'd
Of Law and Iustice; are now sow'd vp
In dunghill clouts; and dwell on parched hills,
To tend the flocks; whose fleece the Victor weares
In gawdy triumph.
Parad.
O harsh captiuitie! Our Country groanes!
Their bondage, not adde to the weight of their
Compell'd burdens.
Rhod.
The King's a sterne Tyrant.
Parad.
Yet he hath vs'd me still with gentle power,
Ta'ne me from the cold Earth, and warm'd me in
His bosome: and Hermegild has full cause
To blesse his bounty. But you (now our Queene)
He valewes next to heauen; howe're this rash
Error striues to disgrace his loue. We are
His captiues too; heretofore not heeded
By our Starres; though we now grow tall with titles
And his fauour.
Herm.
My Lord, the King is kinde! Our memories
Were fraile, should we forget what hath so much
Pertain'd vnto our knowledge. I'm so fond
O're my Religion, I dare not taste
Ingratitude: yet giue me leaue to say,
You may mistake his loue vnto the Queene.
The dry Tartar, who yoakes his females neck
With rusty Yron, not with Carckanets
Of threaded Pearle; whom he preserues for physick
More then increase; will the first night of their
Coniunction, feast her in's imbroader'd tent;
Call her Soueraigne; and like some amorous winde,
Sport with her haire.
Rhod.
But my Nuptiall the King did celebrate
In Golgotha, where Skulls, and dusty bones
Inhabit.
Herm.
Y'are skilfull in the deeds that appertaine
To strength and fury; but they that aime
At victory in Court, must practise smooth
And subtill Arts. Wise Fauourites doe walke
Their breadth and stature; seeme lesser then they are:
For know, the slender Worme, or nimble Grig,
May wriggle downe into th'oblique, and low
Descent o'th narrow hole; whilst th'oregrowne Snake
Peepes at the brimme, but ne're can view the bottome.
Rhod.
Thinke on thy Country, Paradine! Is there
In Story no mention of some great Soule,
That did his Country prize aboue his owne
Mortalitie, and dy'd to gaine his Nation Freedome?
Herm.
The Noble Brutus for his Countreys health,
Made Cesar bleed; Cassius was heroique too,
And had in warre loud Fame, which he increas'd
By mingling in this Act.—Tis wrought with skill,
And apt leasure. His thoughts grow numerous,
And ingender horrid shapes; such as fright
His fancy.
Rhod.
Paradine, good night!
Herm.
Hymen and your Bride, will blame your tardy
Seruice. Sweet Lord, a thousand times good night.
Exeunt Herm. and Rhodolinda.
Parad.
False vnto me! when Thunder wakes the dead:
When the Skie looks swarthy: the clouds like inke
In water powr'd: when the Earth seemes to stand
As in a gloomy shade. When the winde blowes
Till it growes hoarce: till it conuert
And sprinkle Seas euen to a Dew; then I
Shall try the King, and fathome his wide Soule.
If he start, complaine of his mortalitie,
Kneele oft; and pray aloud, as Heauen
Were deafe: if thus, I will conclude him false.
For horrid stormes that Tyrants waking keepe,
Doe rock the noble Conscience safe asleepe.
Exit.
| The tragedy of Albovine, King of the Lombards | |