 | The Crvell Brother |  |
Actus Tertius.
Scena Prima.
Enter, Dorido, Cosimo, Castrvchio.Dorido,
Knowne, by whom! by Citty witts!
Cos.
Or my Ladys workemen.
Dor.
Who ne're saw verse, but what their Sutors writ,
Which they read like Prose too.
Cast.
I'le not discredit my patience, talke on.
Dor.
They say you are particular with a
Great Lady.
Cos.
Yes, and her Pensioner.
Dor.
Some loose thing (belike) yet will be at charge,
To secure her fame from noyse. For thou prayst
Against all lechery but thine owne.
Cos.
And she hath wish'd in witty-penitence,
Thou had'st beene single in the world.
Dor.
I, for then she had liu'd chaste. He growes angry,
His eies looke red.
Cast.
No Sir. They blush to see a Foole.
Dor.
T'were fit they would imploy their modesty
At home. For thou art a foole in print.
Cos.
Yet had he liu'd, when the old Sybill,
Presented her diuine Manuscripts, to
The dull Romane; he would haue scolded with her,
Vnlesse his Pamphlets had attain'd the first
Acceptance.
True, for euery Poet thinks himselfe
The best Poet in the world.
Cos.
And that Satyr not the worst; wherin
He chides Women, for wearing their Halfe-Ruffes,
Which pinn'd behin'd transascetuates the face,
Or makes 'em looke, like Ianus with two faces.
Dorid.
A iust exception; for going hastily
To kisse his whore; he could not find her Mouth.
Cos.
Why sure her breath was strong enough
To direct him to it.
Cast.
Yet I haue heard nothing, but what deserues
More pitty, then anger.
Dorid.
Now when he hath prouided some high toy
For the Presse; he thinks on dedication,
Strait chooseth one of the faction; who must
Not Patronize, but buy what he makes vendable,
With praise in the Epistle.
Cos.
Can you deny this Cousen Satyrist?
Dorid.
And nothing makes Learning so cheape; but that
Euery writer sells his works.
Exit Castruchio. they after him.
Cos.
Nay let's follow; and worry him to peeces.
Enter Lucio, and Foreste.
Lucio.
Foreste! Our ruine is contriu'd aboue,
If our Master prooue vnkin'd, the Planets
Gouerne ill: For our gratitude, and care,
Deserues more constancy.
Foreste.
Lookes he so strangely on yee?
Lucio.
As if the obiect were but new to him.
And his owne heart vnsetled in his breast.
Fores.
Is his violence so soone tir'd suruay
The Register of your owne deeds. Speake Sir,
Haue you so engross'd his eares, as if their
Organ, were yours, not his. Confin'd 'em to
Your owne tongue: and so depriu'd the sorrowfull,
The grieu'd in heart, of an easie audience?
Neuer.
Forest.
Since you haue shar'd the Dukes prerogatiue,
And by his loue, held opposition,
At such great aduantage, did you e're slight
With cheape regard, those of high, and Noble birth?
Lucio.
My soule abhorrs such tyranny.
Fores.
Haue those who weare th'Eternalls Liuery
Bought their wages of ye? Or haue they found
Bold, and skilfull flattery, more helps
Aduancement; then deepe and modest Learning?
Lucio.
Neuer, since my distinction was of power
To helpe its choyce.
Forest.
In nice triall, or euidence of Law,
Hath Custome (which only giues vs hope
Of certainty in Iustice) bin traduc'd
By your obscure helpe?
Lucio.
Neuer.
Fores.
Hath the desolate Widdow fear'd mercy
From your eies, with her old ruin'd beauty,
(For griefe was neuer amorous) or hath
The torne Begget too soone dismissed your charitie
Because not giddy enough to delight
Wantonesse.
Lucio.
Neuer.
Fores.
Then if our great Master withdraw his loue;
The weight of sufferance cannot bruise ye;
For the whole world will share i'th' burden.
Enter a young Gentleman with a Letter.
Lucio.
From whom is this sir?
Gent.
From my Lord Marquise de Loretta.
Lucio.
I humbly kisse his hand.
Gent.
Now luck flatter me but once, and I am made—
Tis short, pray heauen it be sweete, or I'le nere loue
The Prouerb.
Lucio.
Sir, haue you euer bin in seruice,
Vnder any eminent Commander?
Gent.
Neuer yet.
Reade these Foreste.
How Reputation lessens in esteme.
Courtesie growes so cheape that deniall,
Seemes lesse troublesome then consent.
And performance is only Lazy.
The labor of subscription hinders more,
Then thought of that, to which it doth subscribe.
This Letter would faine make you a Captaine
In the new Troupes, sent to the Valtaline.
But sure your modesty will teach you baulke
The graunt, though I should beg ye to receau't.
Fores.
Sir. Shall the grey head, the old Souldier,
That tries misfortune by his constancy
In sufferance; affronts the winters rage;
Whilst his blood is frozen into Corrall,
His sinnes into Wyer: whose Vallor thinkes
To weare Chain'd shot as bracelets on his Loynes.
Shall his preferment be intercepted?
Shall he now traile a Pike vnder a Boy,
Whose experience is younger then his face?
Lucio.
No, the friendship of the noble Marquisse
Shall neuer countenance vniust deeds.
Finde a Sute more capable of my grant,
And your acceptance, it is your owne.
Chaire at the Arras.
Gent.
Noble Signior, I'le put ye to the test.
Fores.
Princes letters are cheaper far then those
Which Scriueners put to sale. If such Pigmyes,
Apes in doublets, procure command o'th' Campe,
Let the Cranes wage war agen. No opposition
Is too weake to ruinate.—Goe young Lord,
The Duke is ill accompany'd, if only
With his owne thoughts. Discouer more. Perhaps
His discontent concerns not you.
Lucio.
I feare, yet my hopes would faine comfort me,
Farewell.
Exeunt omnes.
Luin.
I would not be vnmannerly, but if
She be at leasure, tell her, I am heere.
Dua.
Please your Ladyship to sit, Il'e tell her so.
enter Corsa.
She's come already.
Corsa.
I saw your entrance. How doe you Sister?
Luin.
I humbly thanke your honor, I am well,
Pray dismisse your woman: I would impart
A priuacy.
Corsa.
Watch my Lords comming from the Duke, and bring
Me word, before he is vncoach'd.
Dua.
I shall.
Exit Duarte.
Luin.
O Madam Time is now growne old, and runnes
But slowly, I thought each Hower, a yeere,
Vntill I saw your Ladyship.
Cor.
Why what's the matter? I hope my brother's well
Luin.
Yes, I thanke heauen. But pray come hither
Who doe you suppose was with me last night,
When my husband was at Court?
Corsa.
How should I tell, without you instruct me.
Luin.
Why giue a guesse.
Corsa.
The Lady Benuolia, or the Lady
Vtruvia, who was it?
Luin.
Nay t'was a Man too.
Corsa.
That's fine i'faith, pray name him to me.
Luin.
What thinke you of the best man in Sienna?
Corsa.
How! was the Duke with ye?
Luin.
Yes, disguis'd too: he either came, (or else
Pretended so) to meete your husband there.
After some talke, (in which he did expresse
His loue to all our family) he gaue
An ample praise of you: and sayd he saw
Already so much worth in your faire breast
As will adde a knot to your Lords Heart,
And his owne: nay and make his constant loue
Corsa.
Indeed, I dayly pray to haue it so.
Luin.
Then he gaue me this same Iewell; to you
He recommended the receipt of this.
Corsa.
Trust me wench, they are both full of glory
Rarely cut, and set.
Luin.
Your's is the better of the twaine,
Corsa.
It is.
But truely I mislike the manner of
The gift. Dost thou thinke his thoughts are honorable?
I prethee tell me?
Luin.
Th'are such as I suspected at the first,
Such as made me to refuse these Iewels.
He swore I was a Traytor, if I thought
He meant amisse. Or if I did deny
To beare this same to you, I did but ill
Require his kind request vnto my husband.
Then in the close he vsd such Art, such subtill phrase,
To free his thoughts from the strict iealousie
Of mine; as reconcil'd me to obey his will.
You know besides how harsh it is to chide
With Maiestie, or slight Princes fauors.
Corsa.
I'le shew it to my Lord.
Luin.
I had thought t'haue shewne my husband mine too
But since t'is capable of curious
Questioning, I meane to stay awhile.
Corsa.
Thou counsayl'st well. Wee'll weare 'em both at once.
Mine is the best, I e're was Mistresse of.
Enter Duarte.
Luin.
And mine is not ecclipsed much by yours.
Dua.
Madam, my Lord is neere at hand.
Corsa.
Come Sister, we shall heere the newes at Court.
Luin.
I'le waite vpon your Ladyship.
Exeunt omnes.
Enter Castruchio, Lothario, Borachio.
Cast.
Sir Knight, beleeu't Foreste is the Man;
That duls your reputation with the Duke,
Loth.
Dares he controle my purposes?
Cast.
Aske honest Borachio else.
Bora.
Nay He'le not beleeue me: though I should swear
You flout him behind his backe: and when a man
Sees things plainely; he neede not buy spectacles,
Till he grow old.
Loth.
I'le mince the Villaine into sand, to fill
My Howerglasse—
Cast.
In this Garden he walkes continually
After dinner. Heere stay, and expect him.
And Signior in this skin of parchment; marke
What paines I take, to prefect your reuenge.
I'th' shape of a tree (which takes roote in Hell)
You shall discouer all his base discent.
On that branch appeares a Hangman. Then,
A lakes-man, then, a Tynker. On's Mothers side
A Bawde profess'd. then, a Tybb. then, a Trypewife.
A Synagogue of Welsh Rabbys; could not
Expresse more skill in Genealogies,
Then this includes. Sir, shew it him, and he
Insaniates strait.
Loth.
I'le make him weare it on his forehead.
Cast.
Excellent rage! but not a word of me.
I humbly take my leaue.
exit Castruchio.
Loth.
Not the foure winds (met in March) shall coole my spleene
Bora.
Sir, now we are priuat, tis a fit time
To be troublesome—
Loth.
I'le cram Cerberus, with sopps made of the slaues blood—
Bora.
Concerning those Offices. I'ue thought on 'em,
And will haue 'em all in spight of Boltens teeth.
ent. For.
Fores.
Signior Lothario! Borachio too.
Thou art an honest fellow.
Bora.
I, your worship is wise, to speake no more,
Then what you may well stand too.
Loth.
Base stemme, deriu'd from Isope roote,
Our Ancestors were not so familliar.
shewes him a Parchment.
Fores.
Whats heere? My Pedigree? Some sawcy knaue
Hath counsell'd him, to this affront. What he,
Enter seruants.
I must know th'originall proiector.
Lay hold vpon those fooles.
Loth.
Lay hold on me?
Take off your hands; or I will tosse ye all
Into the cloudes, and kicke the Mountaines after ye.
Bora.
I pray bid the Gentleman take good heede;
For my Master, can doe all this, and more too
I haue seene him.
Ser.
Be you quiet. You that desire Offices.
Bora.
If I doe, what then? there be those desire
Worse things.
Loth.
Know ye not Rogues, that I can muzle vp
The testie Vnicorne, in a Spinners threed?
Fores.
Lay all hold on him.
Bora.
He that cannot runne for his Liberty
Hath no courage in his Heeles. Let the Goute
Take him, that hath Leggs, and w'ont vse'em
he runs away.
Fores.
No matter, let him goe. Conuey that foole,
Vnto the Porters Lodge.
Loth.
A Chaos shall succeed this same.
Exeunt seruants with Lothario.
Enter Lucio.
Foreste.
Whither so fast (sweete Lord!)
Lucio.
Foreste, I haue tane my leaue o'th' Duke.
Fores.
Must ye away to night.
Lucio.
Now, presently. My followers attend
At doore. I onely came to kisse thy hands.
Fores.
The Sunne will faile yee, ere ye reach Lucca.
Lucio.
I must through. His grace will haue it so.
Why dost thou make thy head, to shake and reele,
Vpon thy shoulders thus. Is it o'recome
With thoughts, and such as must be hid from me?
Fores.
Take heede, suspition is the Fauorite
And gathers in the brest, like Balls of snow,
In snow; vntill the weight make it deny
To be remoou'd: then melts at leasure too.
Lucio.
He's too moderate, that will at my yeeres,
Be satisfied thus.
Fores.
Why then consider thus. You goe to Lucca,
There to congratulate the safe aproach
Of the Popes Legate; He hath bin there a weeke;
And why he was not visited ere this
Or why vpon such strict, and short summons.
Your selfe must now be sent; quite puzles me.
Actions rare, and sudden, doe commonly
Proceed from fierce necessitie: or else
From some oblique designe: which is asham'd,
To shew it selfe i'th' publique Rode.
Lucio.
Foreste is this all?
Forest.
Why my sweete Patron: this is enough
Of danger, since none is merited.
Lucio.
Yong thoughts encourage me to sufferance.
Each storme is vsner to a gentle calme:
Who toyles with speede, gets soonest home to rest.
The plodding Muse shall sleepe eternally:
Why should the stricken deare bemoane his death:
His obsequies, were full of noble rites:
Acteons Quire, a iolly Requiem gaue:
And th'Arrow from the bow did sing his dirge.
Fores.
Thus thy yeeres doe riddle griefe away;
Making sorrow swift, because 'tis mortall.
Let me waite, on your Lordship to your horse,
And at your better leasure read this same.
I'le tell ye as we goe, who brought it me.
Exeunt Omnes.
Enter Duke.
Duke.
To wrong my boy, vnkinde, incestuous heate!
Why is Copulation legal; it giues
Would soone conclude the World. O virtuous
Preiudice, when error, preuents folly!
Fiendes, Deuils, that doe liue in liquid fire,
Haue constitutions not halfe so hot,
So riotous as mine. But why this?
The beautious Corsa is not yet defil'd.
He that repents e're he commits a fault,
Doth like a thirsty, sinner store his Soule
With mercy, to absolue that sinne himselfe;
Which he may afterwards, more securely
Fall into. Enough this soone Initiates.
Enter Castruchio.
The credulous Count her husband, I haue sent
To Lucca. And to morrow he returnes.
My plots are limmited too short a time
To become Actions. Nor was it skill
To send the Iewell by her sister. Marke!
My Soule and braine, are perfect Courtiers growne;
In my declention, and my greatest want
They leaue me to instruct, and helpe my selfe.
Cast.
These fancies are not old: the whole Court
Obserues him strangely altered. But why
Am I sent for? that I must know, by safe,
And cautelous insinuation.
Duke.
How soone, I'ue profited in discipline
Of Hell. I must through. What I did meane
Adultery at first; will now I feare
Become a Rape.
Cast.
Hah! still vpon that string? I like it well,
T'is musicall.
Duke.
Castrucho! art thou come?
Thou hast bin a Courtier long; but whether
'Twas want of skill in me to choose a Man,
Or want of lucke in thee to be my choyce;
Suspence makes neutrall. But know; my loue
Was tardy, because still voyde of leasure;
(Though tedious) trials. Affection
That is slow, is sure: And now, I weare my heart
Not in mine owne breast, but thine.
Cast.
I haue but one life, it is some error
In your Grace, thus t'oblige me to the losse
Of more, in your deare seruice.
Duke.
I am not skil'd in words. But I affect
Thy fury. For thou art the bold Satyr,
That whips Foreste, and the wanton Count,
In thy tart Verse.
Cast.
My gracious Lord! I shall conceiue much griefe
If my zeale mistake in accusation
Of those Men, which th'vncertaine Tongue of Fame
Deliuers to my charge.
Duke.
Nay, make not thy confession an excuse
Rather then a story: For there needs none.
I hate Foreste, and the Count, and would
Deuise succinct ways to my reuenge.
Cast.
Heauen forbid! I'de rather farre disgrace
The skill of my subiect; call accusation
Slander: then that the busie multitude
Should note inconstancy in you,
Duke.
This is a damn'd Hypocrite. Chamelions
Changes, are not so intricate to sense.
Castruchio! ease me with nimble apprehension.
I haue not leasure, to be modest now.
Speake; hast no acquaintance with any neere
Cersa's person; the Counts faire wife?
Cast.
I humbly beg, your Grace would not mistake
The conditions of my duty.
Duke.
I beg of thee not to mistake the sense
Of my designes: My words import my heart,
And both, no danger vnto thee.
Cast.
I hope my skill in seruitude, will not
Prouoke my Prince to tempt my honor.
What prolixe loue is this; Dost thou indent
With my acceptance, make choyce of seruices!
Cast.
Your Grace will giue me leaue; since that I know
I not deserue to share in your high secrets,
To doubt my safety in knowing this.
Duke.
Death! and horror! thy suspitions are too thinne.
Consider why I sent the Count to Lucca?
Vpon my life thou art secure: therefore
Reply vnto my former question.
Cast.
My gracious Lord, I haue some interest
In her woman.
Duke.
Is Corsa's woman knowne to thee?
Cast.
She is. Perhaps—
Duke.
Discharge thy tongue. May my eares blister
If they digest words to thy preiudice.
Cast.
Perhaps I knew her, beyond the modest straine.
Duke.
There's Gold. Castruchio, shew some pitty
flings him a Bag.
On rebellious blood. Be my Harbenger,
Billet me this night where she doth lye
And thou art made for euer.
Cast.
Must it be this night?
Duke.
Strict opportunitie will haue it so.
Her Lord returnes with the next Sunne.
Cast.
I cannot say her selfe shall porter be
Vnto your entrance; but her woman shall.
Duke.
Enough! there's more Gold. Summon vp thy braine
Thy heart, thy soule, to meet in consultation,
And so contriue my peace, Farewell.
Cast.
I will instruct your Grace e're long: both when,
And how to make this amorous assault.
Duke.
My selfe and my Exchequer are thine owne.
There needs no Art to worke him into euill;
He is bad enough t'infect the Deuill.
Exeunt seuerall wayes.
| The Crvell Brother | |