University of Virginia Library

Scena tertia

Albertus solus.
Alber.
To be in love, nay to be so in love,
To put off all our reason and discourse,
Which does distinguish us from savage beasts,
To dote upon a face (which like a mirrour,
Sully'd by any breath) by the least sicknesse,
Growes pale and ghastly: Is not this meere madnesse,
Why should't inhabit here then: sure the soule,
As 'tis a spirit of a subtle essence,
A forme as thin and pure, as is an Angels,
Can ne're be author of these wild desires,
So opposite to its nature, they'r all fleshly,
Sordid, as is the clay this frame's compos'd of.
Shall the soule,
The noble soule, be slave to these wild passions,
And bow beneath their waight: ha Isabella.
Int. Isab.
All reason, sense and soule are in her lookes,
There's no discourse beyond them: cruell faire one,
Are you still resolute to persist in your
Strange tyranny, and scorne my constant love.

Isabel.
Doe not sir
Abuse that sacred title, which the Saints,
And powers celestiall glory in, by ascribing
It to your loose desires, pray rather cloth them
In their owne attribute, terme them your lust sir,
Your wild irregular lust, which like those fired rakes,
Mis-guiding nighted travellers, will lead you
Forth of the faire path of your fame and vertue,
To unavoided ruine.

Alber.
This is coynesse,
A cunning coynesse, to make me esteeme
At a high rate, that jewell which you seeme
To part from so unwillingly (Merchants use it
To put bad wares away:) deare Isabella,
Thinke what excessive honour thou shalt reape,
In the exchange of one poore triviall gemme,
And that but meerely imaginary, a voyce,
And unsubstantiall essence, yet for that
Thou shalt have reall pleasures, such as Queenes,
Prone to delicious luxury, would covet
To sate their appetites: Think Isabella,
That hardest Marble, though not cut by force,
By oft diffusion of salt drops, is brought
Into what ever forme the Carvers fancie
Before had destin'd it: your heart's that substance,
And will by frequent oratory of teares,
Be brought to weare the perfect stampe, the figure
Of my affection on it.

Isabel.
Thus besieg'd,
It is high time, I summon up my vertue,
All that is good, about me, to assist
My resolution; Sir, I would be loath,
That you should see me angry, 'tis a passion
My modesty is unacquainted with,
Yet in this cause, deare to me as my honour,
I needs must chide your passion: O consider, looke
What a precipice of certaine ruine,
Your violent will (as on some dangerous rocke,
That strikes what e're dashes upon't, in pieces)
Has cast your heedlesse youth upon: my Lord,
Why should you venter your whole stock of goodnesse,
Upon forbidden Merchandize, a prize
Which the most barbarous pirats to the Lawes
Of morall honesty, would feare to seize on,
Both for its sanctity and triviall value.

Alb.
I'm thunder-strucke.

Isab.
What foolish thiefe, my Lord, would rob an Altar,
Be guilty of the sacriledge, to gaine
A brazen censor: why should you then affect
A sin so great, as spoiling me of honour,
For such a poore gaine, as the satisfying
Your sensuall appetite; think, good my Lord,
The pleasures you so cover, are but like flattering mornings,
That shew the rising Sun in his full brightnesse,
Yet doe e're night bury his head in tempests.

Alb.
I'm disinchanted, all the charmes are fled,
That hung like mists about my soule, and rob'd it
Of the faire light of vertue: excellent Angel,
You have that power in goodnesse, as shall teach
Wonder, that child of ignorance, a faith,
No woman can be bad. I doe confesse,
Big with the rage of my intemperate lust,
I came to blast your purity, but am
Become its perfect convert, so reclaym'd
By your best goodnesse from these foule intentions,
Hell has not strength enough to tempt my frailty,
Toth' like wild loosenesse; pray sweet forgive me,
Seale it with one chaste kisse, and henceforth let me
Adore you as the saver of my honour,
My truth and fames preserver.

Isab.
I am glad
I've wrought this reclamation on your folly,
And trust me, I shall ever love this in you,
Though my more humble thoughts shall ne're aspire
To affect your person.

Alb.
Had you yeelded to my desires,
Been no whit vertuous, I should have esteem'd you,
(My looser heat by your consent extinguish'd)
But as a faire house haunted with goblins,
Which none will enter to possesse, and blest me
From the prodigious building; when now,
Big with the chaste assurance of your vertue,
I doe beseech by your love, your mercy,
Looke on my innocent love, more spotlesse
Then are the thoughts of babes, which ne're knew foulenesse,
Accept me for your husband, start not Lady,
By your faire selfe I meane it,
Doe intreat it
As my extent of happinesse.

Isab.
This my Lord,
Is too extreme oth' other side, as much
Too meane I hold my selfe to be your wife,
As my owne fame and honour did esteeme me
Too good to be your prostitute: My Lord,
The wiving Vine that 'bout the friendly Elme,
Twines her soft limbes, and weaves a leavie mantle
For her supporting Lover, dares not venter,
To mix her humble boughes, with the imbraces
Of the more lofty Cedar: 'Twixt us two
Is the same difference: Love my Lord and hope
A nobler choice, a Lady of your owne
Ranke; all the ends my poore ambition
Shall ever ayme, shall be to love your worth,
But ne're aspire your Nuptials.

Alber.
You're too humble,
Impose too meane a value on a gemme,
Kings would be proud to weare, deare Isabella,
Let not thy modest sweetnesse interpose
A new impediment 'twixt my lawfull flames,
And thy owne Vestall chastity, let not feare,
(To thy sex incident) of my fathers wrath
Stagger thy resolution; thou shalt be
To me, my father, mother, brother, friend,
My all of happinesse; if we cannot here
In peace injoy our wishes, we will love
Like Turtles in a Desart, onely blest
In one anothers company.

Enter Fred Newm.
New.
Why look you sir, yonder's the cock oth' game,
About to tred yon ginny hen, they'r billing;
Shall we retire, my Lord, perhaps they are going to't,
And 'twould be a shame to spoile their sport.

Fred.
I am resolv'd, I'le speake to him.

Newm.
Your pleasure must be accomplish'd,
But take heed we draw not the Virgins curses on us
Both, take heed on't, it will fall heavy.

Alber.
Surpriz'd, and by my brother, prethy sweet
Withdraw, I would not have thy timorous eares,
Frighted with his loud anger.

Fred.
Save you brother, you've parted with your
Mistresse, pray tell me, does she kisse well,
Has she a fragrant lip?
Are her demeanours courtly, apt to ravish?
Are you resolv'd to run away with her,
And stain the honour of our family, for her sweet sake?

Alber.
Gentle brother, you speak a language
I nor understand,
Nor value much the meaning. In your love
I medled not, and 't had been manners in you,
Not to have intruded upon mine, your presence
Being unrequired.

Fred.
You'r very confident, young Gallant,
In defence of your brave Mistresse,
I know you are in love, bravely in love
With a trim Chamber-maid, a thing made up
Of a cast Taffatie gowne of an old Wardrobe:
Degenerate brother, were I not assur'd
Of your chaste mothers vertues, I should question,
Whither my father got you, but I'm come
To disinchant thy senses from the charmes,
That hatefull witch throwes on them, but resolve
Quickly to quit her, or by Heaven shee'd better
Commix with lightning.

Alber.
Pray, good brother use
Your threats upon your Corporals, or stampe
At your tame Lance presados, when they doe not
Performe your charge; your rage upon your boyes,
Were more becomming, then upon your brother:
If you will sit, and with attentive patience,
Marke what I shall deliver, I will give you
Reasons for my intentions, but if not,
You may depart unsatisfied.

Fred.
Well Sir, be briefe, I shall attend you.

Alb.
In briefe, I love faire Isabella, so as honour,
Not the vicious heat of youth,
Commands me to affect, I love her vertue,
And have in that as noble, rich a dowry,
As the addition of estate and blood,
Which you have acquir'd in your late happy match
With young Emilia.

Fred.
Dare you, boy, name her,
And my Emilia as paralels.

Alb.
Why, good brother,
Though she transcends her in her birth and fortunes,
Yet in the rare indowments of her minde,
She is her equall, vertue has a soul as precious
In peasants as in Princes, 'tis a birth-right
Alone can deprive them of, who truly have it.
'Tis so with Isabella.

Fred.
You doe intend to marry her.

Alb.
Yes brother.

Fred.
Shee is a Whore.

Alb.
'Tis a most scandalous lye, and on your heart,
Ile prove her chaste and vertuous as Emilia,
As your Emilia.

Fred.
Have at you.

Fight.
Ent. Tertzki, Kintzki, Newman, Illawe.
Newm:
Help to beat down their swords, my Lords,
Death, Fredrick, Albertus, what doe you meane?
Let's beat them both, hart I thinke you'r drunk
With Lubecks beere or Brunswicks Mum.

Kint.
For shame
Put up your angry weapons.

New.
How fell you out Gentlemen, how fell you out.

Tert.
It was a sad misfortune, nor would I
It should arrive unto our Generals notice,
For halfe my Earledome: 'Las my Lord you bleed.

Alb.
No matter,
My blood could ne're in more holy use
Have been imploy'd.

New.
Now the heat's over, do you not both thinke
Your selves a paire of coxcombs, come shake hands,
I will make you both stark drunke, but I will have you
Good friends agen, brothers fall out, for shame,
Brothers fall out.