University of Virginia Library

Actus Secundi.

Scena Prima.

Enter Sanmartino, Captaine, Souldier, and Garaganta.
Captain.
Come on you Atlasses of Arragon:
You by whose powers the Castilian cloud
Was forc't to vanish. We have ferk'd Florentio,
In the right Arme: made the enamor'd Donn
Retire to dolefull Tent.

Sanmar.
We sallyed bravely.

Cap.
Thou didst ith' sally fight like lightning Conde,
Let th'ayre play with thy plume, most puisant Peere.
No Conde Sanmartino now; but Conde
S. George, that Cappadocian man at Armes,
Thou hast done wonders, wonders big with story,
Fit to be sung in loftie Epick straine:
For writing which the Poet shall behold,
That which creates a Conde, gold. Gold which
Shall make him wanton with some suburbe Muse,
And Hypocrene flow with Canary billow.
Th'art high in feate of Arme.

San.
Captaine I thinke
I did my part.

Captain.
Base is the wight that thinkes,
Let Condes small in spirit drinke harsh sherry,
Then quarrel with promooting knights, and fine for't
Thou art in mettall mighty, tough as steele
As Bilboe or Toledo steele. Fight on.
Let Acres sincke, and bancke of money melt,
Forsake thy Ladies lappe, and sleepe with us
Upon the bed of honour, the chill earth.
Tis that will make thee held a potent Peere,
Mong men oth' Pike, of buffe, and bandeliere.

San.
Thou speakest brave language Captaine,

Captain.
Ile maintaine
Tis Arragonian, Conde.

Garagan.
Captaine Cedar,
Though in thy language lofty, give a shrub
Leave to salute thee. Sure we two are neere
In blood and great attempt. Don Hercules
VVas as I read in Chaldean Chronicle,
Our common Ancestor. Don Hercules
Who rifled Nimph on top of Apennine.

Captain.
Small Imp avant.

Garagan.
Stout sturdie Oke, that growes
So high in field of Mars, ô let no tempest
Shake thee from hence. And now I have with labour
Attain'd thy language, Ile thy truchman be,
Interpret for thee to those smaller soules,
Who wonder when they understand not. Soules!
Whom Courtiers gaudie outside captives,
And plume of Coronell.

Captain.
I must expire.
Not talke to fish. Seest thou that man of match
Though small in stature, mighty he's in soule,
And rich in gifts of mind, though poore in robes:
Reward like Phillips heire his daring arme,
Which fetcht thee off from danger. Once againe
Most doughty Don adieu.

Garagan.
Great Don Saltpeeter,
I am the servant of thy famed caliver.

San.
These are strong lines. Now friend! Art thou oth' garison?

Soul.
If't please your Lordship.

San.
It doth not please me,
It is indifferent. I care not what thou art.
Art thou extreamely poore?

Soul.
Ift please your Lordship.

San.
No not that neither. Why should I maligne
So far thy fortune, as to wish thee poore?
Twere safer for my purse, if thou wert rich:
Then all reward were base.

Soul.
Ift please your Lordship.

San.
O no more Prologue. Prethee the first Scene,
To th'businesse man.

Soul.
Then I must tell your Lordship.
I scorne that wealth makes you thus wanton, and
That wit which fooles you. Did the royall favour
Shine but on you, without enlarging warmth
To any other, I in this torne outside
Should laugh at you, if insolent.

San.
This is saucie.

Soul.
I tell thee petulant Lord, Ile cut thy throate
Unlesse thou learne more honour.

San.
What shall I doe?
Enter Floriana, and Cleantha.
But see Cleantha. Not to be made Grande,
VVould I she should discover me in parley
VVith such course cloathes. There fellow take that gold,
And let me see thy face no more. Away.

Throwes backe the money.
Soul.
There tis agen. I will not owe one houre
Of mirth to such a bounty. I can starve
At easier rate, than live beholding to
The boast of any giver. Lord! I scorne
Thee and that gold which first created thee.
Exit. Sould.

Flor.
That Souldier seem'd to carry anger in
His looke my Lord.

San.
What should his anger move me?

Clean.
O no my Lord: The world speaks wonders of
Your mighty puissance.

Flor.
Tis my joy y'are safe.
But why adventured you into this quarrell?

Cleant.
The Queene will hardly thanke your valour: since
They of Castile profest themselves her Souldiers.

San.
The Queene must pardon courage: Men who are
Of daring Spirit, so they may but fight
Examine not the cause.

Flori.
She doth expect us.

Clean.
I will attend her here. For here she gives
Decastro audience. I must not loose
This Lord yet, it so neere concernes my mirth.

San.
Madam! I wonder with what confidence
You after such an injury, dare indanger
Discourse with me.

Cleant.
I injure you my Lord?
Whose favour I have courted with more Zeale
Than well my Sexe can warrant? Triumph not
Too much upon my weakenesse; 'cause you have
Got victory ore my heart, take not delight
To make my griefe your sport.

San.
Be witty still,
And keepe me for a Trophie of your pride,
I hope to see that beauty at an ebbe;
Where will be then your over-flow of servants?
You'le then repent your pride.

Clean.
O never, never.
If you'le particularize your vowes to me;
You who toth' title of the Courtly Lord,
Have added that of valiant. And beshrew me,
She's no good huswife of her fame, that wants
A daring servant.

Sanmar.
This perhaps may worke.

Cleant.
If she live single; he preserves her name
And scarce admits a whisper, that the Jealous
May conster points at her. And if she marry;
He awes the husband, if by chance or weakenesse,
She have offended.

San.
This cannot be fiction.

Clean.
Then if she use but civill complement
To a Courtier Batchelor; He streight bespeakes
The Licence, and the Favours, and calls in
Some wit into his Councell for the Posie,
While I feele no tentation to such folly
But with a married Lord.

San.
How gentle Madam?

Clea.
Our walkes are priviledg'd, our whispers safe,
No feare of laying contracts to my charge,
Nor much of scandall. And if there be cause,
Who is so fond a Ghamster of his life,
As meerely out of spleene to stake it? But
My Lord I now suspect you conster'd ill
That language I used to your Lady, when
I told her of your love. But I presume
You were not so dull sighted as in that
Not to discerne the best disguise for love.

San.
What a suspicious asse was I? How captious?
I nere mistrusted my owne wit before.
Mischiefe how dull was I?

Clean.
Pray turne your face
Away. Now know when worth and valour are
Led on by love to win my favour. But
The Queene.

Enter Queene Decastro, Ossuna, Floriana, &c.
San.
Divine Cleantha! Noblest Lady!

Decast.
Ossuna let me begge thy care. Though we
Bravely repulst the enemie: They seeme
To threaten a new assault.

Ossuna.
Command your servant.

Decast.
Beare then a vigilant eye, and by your scouts
Learne if they any new attempt prepare.
Exit. Ossuna.
May't please your Majestie, command these many
Eares from your presence.

Queen.
Good my Lord! you who
Have power to guide your Queene, may make our presence
Or full or emptie as you please.

Decast.
Then with
Your licence Madam they may all with draw.

Queen.
Not with our licence. If your usurped greatnesse
Will banish all attendance from our person;
I must remaine alone. But not a man
Stirre hence with our good liking.

Decast.
If your will
(Averse from sober councell) would submit
To safe advice.

Queen.
You have instructed it
To more obedience, than I guesse my birth
Did ere intend. But pray my Lord teach me
To know my fault and I will finde amendment
If not, repentance for it.

Decast.
Then great Madam
I must acquaint you that the supreame Law
Of Princes, is the peoples safety: Which
You have infring'd, and drawne thereby into
The inward parts of this great state a most
Contagious Feaver.

Queene.
Pray no Metaphor.

Decast.
You have invited warre to interrupt
With its rude noise, the musique of our peace,
A forraigne enemie gathers the fruite,
The sweate and labour of your subjects planted.
In the coole shadow of the Vine we pruin'd
He wantonly lyes downe, and roughly bids
The owner presse the grape: that with the juyce
His blood may swell up to lascivious heates.

Queene.
My Lord I answere not th'effects of war,
But I must pay Castile all thankefull service,
For his faire charitie.

Decast.
Doe you then Madam
Reckon on mischiefe as a charitie?

Queene.
Yes, such a mischiefe as is mercifull,
And I a Queene opprest. But how dares he
Whose duty ought with reverence obey,
And not dispute the councells of his Princesse,
Question my actions? Whence my Lord springs this
Ill tutor'd priviledge?

Decast.
From the zeale I owe
The honour of our Nation: Over which
Kings rule but at the Courtesie of Time.

Queen.
You are too bold: And I must tell your pride
It swells to insolence. For were your nature
Not hoodwink'd by your interest, you would praise
The vertue of his courage, who tooke Armes
To an injured Ladies rescue.

Decast.
Twas ambition,
Greedy to make advantage of that breach
Betweene you and your people, arm'd Castile;
Unpittyed else you might have wept away
The houres of your restraint.

Queen.
Poore erring man!
Could thy Arts raise a tempest blacker yet
Such as would fright thy selfe. It could not for
One moment cloud the splendor of my soule.
Misfortune may benight the wicked, she
Who knowes no guilt can sinke beneath no feare:

Decast.
Your Majestie mistakes the humble aime
Of my addresse. I come not to disturbe
Th'harmonious calme your soule enjoys: May pleasure
Live there enthron'd, till you your selfe shall wooe
Death to enlarge it. May felicities
Great as th'Idæas of Philosophie
Waite still on your delight. May fate conspire
To make you rich and envied.

Queen.
Pray my Lord
Explaine the riddle. By the cadence of
Your language, I could guesse you have intents
Farre gentler than your actions.

Decast.
If your eare
Great Madam, would convey into your heart
The story of my love. My love, a flame.

Queen.
Leave off this history of love, and flame
And honesty confesse your feares my Lord,
Least Castile should correct you.

Decast.
Correct me?
No Madam, I have forc't them t'a retreate.
And given my fine young Generall cause to wish
He had not left his amorous attempts
On Ladies, to assault our Citie.

Queen.
But he is not wounded?

Decast.
Not to death perhaps,
But certainely w' have open'd him a veine,
Will cure the Feaver of his blood.

Queene.
O stay!

Decast.
Torment! And doth she weepe? I might have falne
Downe from some murdering precipice to dust,
And mist the mercie of one teare: though it
Would have redeem'd me backe to life agen.
Accurst be that felicite that must
Depend on womans passion.

Queene.
Florentio!
If in my quarrell thou too suddenly
Art lost ith' shades of death; ô let me finde
The holy vault where thy pale earth must lye,
There I will grow and wither.

Decast.
This is strange!
My heart swells much too bigge to be kept in.

Queen.
But if that Providence which rules the world
Hath to preserve the stocke of vertue, kept
Thee yet alive.

Decast.
And what, if yet alive?
Pray recollect your reason and consider
My long and faithfull service to your crowne:
The fame of my progenitors, and that
Devotion the whole Kingdome beares me. How
Hath nature punisht me, that bringing all
The strength of argument to force your judgement,
I cannot move your love?

Queen.
My Lord you plead
With so much arrogance, and tell a story
So gallant for your selfe, as if I were
Exposed a prize toth' cunningst Orator.

Decast.
No Madam, humbler far than the tand slave
kneeles.
Tyed to the Oare, I heere throw downe my selfe
And all my victories. Dispose of me
To death, for what hath life, merits esteeme?
What tye, Alas, can I have to the World?
Since you disdaine my love.

Floria.
Will you permit
The Generall kneele so long?

Queen.
Feare not Floriana,
My Lord knowes how to rise, though I should strive
To hinder it.

Decast.
Here statue-like Ile fix
For ever, till your pity (for your love
I must despaire) enforce a life within me.

Alarum and Enter Ossuna.
Ossuna.
O my Lord!
To arme, to arme. The enemie encouraged
By a strange leader, wheel'd about the towne,
And desperately surpris'd the carelesse guard.
One gate's already theirs.

Decast.
Have I your licence.

Queen.
To augment your owne command, and keepe me still
An humble captive.

Decast.
Madam! your disdaine
Distracts me more, than all th'assaults of fortune.

Exeunt all but the Queene, Floriana, and Cleantha.
Queen.
My fate! O whether dost thou leade me? Why
Is my youth destin'd to the stormes of warre?
What is my crime, you heavenly powers! that it
Must challenge blood for expiation!

Clean.
Madam!

Queen.
Fortune! O cruell! For which side soe're
Is lost, I suffer: either in my people,
Or slaughter of my friends. No victory
Can now come welcome, the best chance of warre
Makes me how ere a mourner.

Cleant.
Madam, you
Have lost your vertue, which so often vowed
A cleere aspect, what cloud soever darken'd
Your present glory.

Queen.
I had thoughts Cleantha:
But they are vanisht: what shall we invent
To take off feare and trouble from this houre?
Poore Floriana. Thou art trembling now
With thought of wounds and death to which the courage
Of thy feirce husband like a headstrong jade,
May runne away with him. But cleere thy sorrowes.
If he fall in this quarrell, thou shalt have
Thy choise 'mong the Castilian Lords. And give
My judgement faith, there be brave men emong them.

Flor.
Madam, I have vowed my life to a Cloyster
Should I survive my Lord.

Queen.
And thou art fearefull
Thou shalt be forc't to make thy promise good.
Alasse poore soule! Inclosure and course dyet,
Much Disciple and early prayer, will ill
Agree with thy complection. There's Cleantha!
She hath a heart so wean'd from vanitie,
To her a Nunnery would be a Pallace.

Clean.
Yes, if your Majestie were Abbesse. Madam,
But Cloyster up the fine young Lords with us,
And ring us up each midnight to a Masque
In steed of Mattins; And I stand prepar'd
To be profest without probation.

Drum beats.
Flor.
Harke! What noyse is that?

Queen.
Tis that of death and mischiefe.
My griefes! but Ile discemble them. Yet why,
Cleantha being the sole beautious Idoll
Of all the superstitious youth at Court;
Remainst thou yet unmarried?

Cleant.
Madam I
Have many servants but not one so valiant
As dares attempt to marry me.

Queen.
There's not a wit but under some feign'd name
Implores thy beauty, sleepe cannot close up
Thy eyes, but the sad world benighted is,
Or else their sonnets are Apocriphall
And when thou wakest the Larke salutes the day,
Breaking from the bright East of thy faire eyes.
And if mong thy admirers there be some
Poore drossie braine who cannot rime thy praise,
He wooes in sorry Prose.

Enter Servant.
Ser.
Halfe of the Citie
Already is possest by th'enemie,
Our souldiers flye from the Assailants, who
With moderation use their victory.
So far from drawing blood, th'abstaine from spoyle.

Queene.
My comforts now grow charitable, This
Is the first dawning of some happier fortune.

Flor.
Where did you leave my Lord?

Ser.
Retiring hither.

Queen.
And your good nature will in time Cleantha
Beleeve all flattery for truth.

Clean:
In time
I shall not. But for th'present Madam give
Leave to my youth to thinke I may be prays'd,
And merit it. Hereafter when I shall
Owe Art my beauty, I shall grow perhaps
Suspicious there's small faith in Poetrie.

Que.
Canst thou thinke of hereafter? Poore Cleanthal
Hereafter is that time th'art bound to pray
Against. Hereafter is that enemie
That without mercie will destroy thy face,
And what's a Lady then?

Clean.
A wretched thing.
A very wretched thing. So scorn'd and poore
Twill scarce deserve mans pittie. And Ime sure
No Almes can ere releeve it.

Queen.
Floriana,
You yeeld too much to feare. Misfortune brings
Sorrow enough: Tis envie to our selves,
T'augment it by prediction.

Enter Sanmartino.
Cleant.
See your Lord.

San.
Fly Madam fly. The Armie of Castile
Conducted by an unknowne leader, masters
The Towne. Decastro yeelding up his fate
To the prevailing enemie is fled.

Cleant.
And shall the Queene flye from her friends my Lord?

Sanmar.
You have reason Madam. I begin to finde
Which way the Gale of favour now will blow,
I will addresse to the most fortunate.
Exit. Sanmar.

Queene.
Some Musique there, my thoughts grow full of trouble,
Ile recollect them.

Clean.
May it please you Madam
To heare a song presented me this morning.

Queen.
Play any thing.

The Song in the second Act.
During the Song, Enter Ascanio, Lerma, Sanmartino, &c.

Ascanio.
Cease the uncivill murmur of the drum:
Nothing sound now but gentle, such as may not
Disturbe her quiet eare. Are you sure Lerma
Th'obedient Souldier hath put up his sword?

Lerma.
The Citizen and souldier gratulate
Each other, as divided friends new meeting.
Nor is there execution done but in pursute
Of th'enemie without the walls.

Asca.
Tis very well. My Lord is that your Queene?

San.
It is the Queene sir.

Asca.
Temper'd like the Orbs:
Which while we mortalls weary life in battell,
Move with perpetuall harmonie. No feare
Ecclipseth the bright lustre of her cheeke.
While we who infants were swath'd up in steele,
And in our cradle luld a sleepe by th'Cannon,
Grow pale at danger.

San.
Ile acquaint her sir
That you attend here.

Ascanio.
Not for a diamond
Bigge as our Apennine. She's heavenly faire.
And had not Nature plac't her in a throne;
Her beauty yet beares so much Majestie,
It would have forc't the World to throw it selfe,
A captive at her feete. But see, she moves!
I feele a flame within me, which doth burne
Too neere my heart: And tis the first that ever
Did scorch me there.

San.
Madam here's that brave Souldier
Which reinforc't the Armie of Castile.
His name as yet unknowne.

Ascanio.
And must be so.
Nor did I merit name before this houre,
In which I serve your Majestie, enjoy
The fortune of my sword your liberty.
And since your Rebell subjects have denyed
Obedience, here receive it, from us strangers.

Queen.
I know nor sir to whom I owe the debt,
But finde how much I stand obleig'd.

Ascanio.
You owe it
To your owne vertue Madam, and that care
Heaven had to keepe part of it selfe on earth
Unruin'd. When I saw the Souldier flye,
Sent hither from Castile to force your rescue,
Their Generall hurt almost to death. I urg'd
Them with the memory of their former deedes,
Deeds famed in War. And so far had my voyce
(Speaking your name) power to confirme their spirits
That they return'd with a brave fury, and
Yeeld you up now your owne humbled Arragon.

Queen.
My ignorance doth still perplex me more.
And to owe thankes yet not to know to whom,
Nor how to expresse a gratitude, will cloud
The glory of your victory, and make
Me miserable however.

Ascanio.
I must pennance
My blood with absence, for it boyles too high.
aside
When we have order'd your affaires, my name
Shall take an honour from your knowledge Madam.

Queen.
You have corrected me. Sir we'le expect
The houre your selfe shall name, when we may serve.

Ascanio.
Ime conquer'd in my victory. But Ile try
A new assault: And overcome, or dye.

Exeunt.